


Here to Misbehave

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Angst, BDSM, Belts, Booty Calls, Choking, Comfort/Angst, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dom Spencer Reid, Dom/sub, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fake ID, Gratuitous Smut, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, Heavy BDSM, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Spencer Reid, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Marking, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pregnancy Kink, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sad Spencer Reid, Self-Insert, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, brat reader, sub Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 204,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Spencer spots you at a nightclub and quickly becomes smitten. Only problem is he’s an FBI agent and you’re under 21 (originally posted on Tumblr).NONE OF MY WORKS ARE TO BE REPOSTED ANYWHERE BESIDES MY OFFICIAL ACCOUNTS.If you see my works reposted anywhere besides my Wattpad (@imaginingnthemargins) and my Tumblr (imagining-in-the-margins) please report the account immediately and alert me. Thank you!
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 148
Kudos: 1141





	1. Chapter One

There are many reasons to come to a nightclub. For some, it’s an excuse to find someone to kill their loneliness. For others, it’s a chance to escape themselves. I’m not sure which I was more of tonight.

The pulsing bass reverberated through the floor, and I let it take me somewhere else for awhile. Losing myself in the crowd, my body seemed to know how to move to the music without much thought.

It was my birthday, evidenced by the giant sash my friends insisted on me wearing. If anyone asked, I had just turned 21. But truthfully, I still had another year until then. The strange thing is, I’m not the kind of person to make a habit out of breaking the rules. But something about this year made me stir crazy. Everything happens for a reason, right?

The moment that thought went through my head a pair of pensive eyes caught my attention through the crowd. A man was leaning against the bar, seemingly alone. I thought it strange, considering how out of place he seemed. Surely, he must have come with someone else. But the way he was looking at me told me he _probably_ wasn’t there with a woman. At least, I hoped not.

I almost went to him, but I felt a familiar tap on my shoulder. My friend was calling my attention to the relatively empty stage, begging me to join her on it. Now, I am not the best dancer, but when you’re trying to get a cute guy’s attention, that’s what you do, right? As I climbed up with her, I tried to spot him once more. Unfortunately, he had moved from his previous position. Oh well, I thought, maybe he hadn’t really been looking at me after all.

So instead, I just focused on the music. Swaying my hips to the beat, I closed my eyes and let my hands run up and down my body the way I wished someone else’s would. I wondered if he could still see me. I wondered if he was still looking.

I’m not sure how much time passed, but when I glanced back to the bar for the fifth time, I spotted him again. Once he noticed me noticing him, he quickly turned around, and I knew this was my chance.

I scrambled down off the stage, leaving my friends to enjoy themselves among the writhing bodies. I wanted to enjoy a different primal experience right now. Strutting right up to the bar next to him, I leaned over the counter, waving to the bartender. The hairs rose on the back of my neck, a sure sign that I had caught someone’s attention. I didn’t look. Not yet.

“Gin and tonic, please,” I called to the bartender when he finally made his way over. Once he turned back around to make the drink, I knew it was a good time to look over at the stranger beside me. Unsurprisingly, he immediately pretended he wasn’t looking at me.

“Are you checking me out?” I asked just loudly enough that he would undoubtedly be able to hear me over the music. His embarrassed reaction answered the question in the affirmative, although he unconvincingly insisted, “U-uh, no. No, I’m not.”

“Oh,” I responded, moving closer to him to prevent someone from separating us. “That’s too bad.” He furrowed his eyebrows, a small smile on his face as he asked, “Is it?”

“Well… Yeah,” I responded with a laugh. The way I met his eyes was a challenge, and one he seemed to only half accept. Although, the way he looked away was less so admitting defeat and more so taking me up on the offer to check me out.

He glanced down at my chest, and I moved from my position leaning against the counter, opening my chest up for a better view. “Can you see it well enough?” I teased, gesturing to the sash across my chest. I couldn’t tell if his face was as red as it looked or if it was just the flashing lights playing tricks on me.

The bartender returned before he answered, and I handed him my change as a tip, holding the drink with my hand over the top. I may be young, but I wasn’t trying to get drugged in a club. I tried not to read into him noticing that habit.

“Happy birthday.” His offering seemed genuine, and this time, it was my face that turned red. I hoped he didn’t notice, but I had a feeling he did. “How old are you now?” He asked, and I realized I didn’t really want him to know. Something about the way his eyes scanned every motion I made just made me feel like he could tell if I was lying.

“A year older than last year.” It wasn’t a lie, after all, and he seemed to think it was funny. Behind me, a person was struggling to fit into the crowd at the bar, pushing me closer to the stranger I was quickly becoming acquainted with. He reached out, grabbing my arm to stabilize my obviously struggling self.

“Thanks,” I said with a bit of a laugh, trying not to seem dramatically inexperienced at this scene. “I’m not used to wearing heels.” He seemed so comfortable. So paradoxically confident yet timid.

“What’s your name?” I finally asked, and he was more than happy to respond. “Dr. Spencer Reid.” Something was so charming about the way he kept his honorific, which would usually have been irritating. He didn’t seem to want to brag about it; it was like it was just a part of who he was.

“Doctor? You seem pretty young for that.” I asked, sipping on my drink as I waited for a bit of clarification. “Well, if you’re talking about a Doctor of Medicine, I’m 30, which is actually the average age a person would be when they complete their residency. But most people with MDs will call themselves doctors after they graduate, so really, I wouldn’t be too young at all.”

I nodded along as he spoke, wondering if this kind of information dump was common for him. To be honest, it was kind of endearing. He continued, “But I’m not that kind of doctor. I have three PhDs; mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have a BA in psychology as well as sociology.”

I waited another second to make sure he was finished, and also because I was suddenly feeling very intimidated. His strange socialization method made sense with his PhD subjects, and the bachelor’s explained why he was so observant. Something told me he didn’t need to be told he was impressive.

“What about you? What’s your name?” He finally asked, and I realized I never told him my name. “(Y/n). No honorifics, unfortunately.” He smiled, repeating it back to me and adding, “It’s still a nice name.” Uncomfortable talking about myself with such an impressive person, I opted for a different topic. “You don’t seem like this is your first time in a club.”

“Yeah, it’s not. I have to go to them occasionally for work. I also grew up in Vegas, so they were kind of… everywhere.” He chuckled, taking a sip of what appeared to be water. I didn’t mention it. There were so many reasons someone wouldn’t drink alcohol, including just a basic desire to not be hung over the next day.

“What kind of work regularly takes you to a nightclub?” I was genuinely curious, but I wouldn’t get the answer. Unfortunately, at the same time I asked the question, I felt a very strong pressure digging into my arm, yanking me away from the bar.

“Hey there beautiful, why’d you leave the dance floor?” I didn’t even recognize the very drunk man slurring the question to me. He looked like every other generic, idiotic brute that I had encountered through the night. “Cause I don’t want to fucking dance with you,” I answered matter-of-factly.

I could see Spencer’s demeanor change, like he was about to do something, but I shot him a warning glance that this was _not_ his fight. I had gotten quite comfortable with this part of being out on the town. “Come on, don’t be like that,” the man barked. I pulled my arm away, my drink sloshing onto the floor. I didn’t care, because I wasn’t going to be drinking it now, anyway.

“I said _no_ ,” I said in a much louder voice, lifting my foot high enough for it to hurt when I drove the pointed heel directly into his foot. “And **don’t fucking touch me**!”

Before I could throw what was left of my drink onto the asshole, I felt Spencer’s much gentler touch. His arm wrapped around me as he stepped between me and the man, hurriedly guiding me away from the guy. Once we got out of the immediate area, I climbed into a chair at a high top, rubbing my arm where it had begun to turn red. “What a fucking dick!” I yelled, still fuming from the unwelcome contact.

In stark contrast, Spencer’s very warm hand cupped my face, tilting it to look up at him. “(Y/n), are you alright?”

The way he looked at me stopped time. It felt like the earth had halted in its tracks, the music slowing down and the sounds of the crowd drowning away.

“Hey, are you okay?” He repeated, and I finally snapped back to reality. I nodded, suddenly no longer angry at the asshole who had created this moment between us. “Yeah,” I mumbled, “Thanks.”

“Does that happen to you often?” He asked, a strange mixture of concerned and angry that honestly looked pretty damn attractive on him. “Unfortunately. Most guys don’t like being told they aren’t your type. Especially if they aren’t used to it.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Spencer shrugged with a gentle laugh, “I’m pretty used to it.” A welcome bit of self-deprecating humor. He finally moved his hand, and I had to admit I missed the way it felt already.

“Well, I don’t know why you’re used to it. I think you’re pretty cute.” The statement was fueled by the gin, but it was still true. He shifted uncomfortably, and I tried not to read too far into it. He had just told me that he wasn’t used to hearing this kind of stuff, so maybe it wasn’t about me necessarily.

“Thanks…” He started, shoving his hands in his pockets as he struggled to find something to do with them now that they weren’t touching me. “I feel bad now.” I raised my eyebrows, smiling a bit at the strange response to a compliment. “Why?”

“I uh, I lied to you earlier.” My attention piqued, I turned my body towards him, leaning forward a bit. “Oh? To which question?” He released a hand from his pocket, running it through his hair as he worked up the courage to look at me while he spoke. “The first one.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, his honesty was so absolutely endearing. He had just admitted that he had been checking me out, as if I didn’t already know. “You are absolutely _adorable_.” He reacted much better to that compliment, although he seemed confused when I held my hand out for his.

“Come here,” I instructed, reaching my fingers out to grab his forearm when he didn’t take my hand, gently tugging him towards me. He took the few steps forward, and I took a moment to appreciate that his height granted me perfect access to his face from the high top.

I bit down on my lip as I glanced between his beautiful espresso eyes and his lips, parted softly as his breathing rate increased from the close contact. I started to move closer to him, and without moving away, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Could he do anything without it being charming? My grip around his arm tightened for a second, looking up at him with the most wanton look I could muster. “Well, I guess I’m going to kiss you. I hope that’s alright.”

“Why?” An equally charming and maddening response, to which I just gave a small shrug. His eyes glanced back and forth, clearing trying to read between the lines of my own gaze. I let him, my eyes never leaving his. He didn’t seem to have any follow up questions or reservations, so I used my free hand to pull his face to mine.

When our lips met, I was transported back to the dance floor in my mind. I could feel the vibrations shaking every inch of the club, but it was nothing compared to the butterflies erupting in my stomach. His hands returned to my face shortly after, and when his tongue slipped into my mouth it was the only confirmation that I got that he had also been drinking.

The taste of vodka and gin mixed, creating a cocktail of alcohol and hormones between us. A small moan escaped at the thought, and part of me hoped he could feel it distinct from the bass. I wanted him to know the effect he had on me. Because it turned out he wasn’t just cute and smart, he was an _incredibly_ talented kisser.

Not wanting to stop yet, I hooked a leg around the back of his knee, increasing my hold on him. He lowered a hand to grab onto my thigh, and I gasped at the contact. I wondered if this was his first time making out in a club, because it was certainly mine. Selfishly, I hoped I could be a first of something for him. Realistically, I knew it was unlikely. He was just too damn good at this.

Spencer began to retreat from the kiss, and before he could leave entirely, I bit down on his lower lip. The last, lingering contact seemed to have its desired effect, as he looked down at me like there was nothing else that he wanted more in this world than to keep kissing me.

“Was that a good enough reason?” I asked, genuinely curious about his thoughts on it. Instead of using words, he just kissed me again, with more pressure and less reserved. It was an answer I was happy to accept. His grip on my leg tightened, and it was nothing like the way other men grabbed me. When we broke apart this time, I knew it was time. I had to make my move.

“Come outside with me.” He seemed not to have expected the invitation, especially such a vague one. Nonetheless, he nodded, stepping back to let me hop out of the chair. His hand in mine, I led him through the crowd. He never let go. Not even when we got outside.

The air felt cool and crisp in comparison to the stuffy club. My ears were still ringing, and I wondered if we would sound the same to each other now that we weren’t practically screaming. I let out a laugh from pure nerves, excited to be alone with him, but also not really ready to have this conversation. Of course, he thought I was cute, but I was still a stranger. What if he wasn’t that interested and decided to ditch me?

“Heeeeyyy! (Y/n)! How’s it going?!” A familiar voice sounded from over by the smokers. It wasn’t one of my friends, per se. More like a friend of a friend. He was very drunk and very excited to see me. I finally let go of Spencer’s hand but glanced back to let him know to follow me over. I kept a modest distance. “Hey, how’s it going, John?”

“Goin’ pretty fucking great,” he slurred, and I laughed at how hammered he had managed to get in a couple of hours. “Seems like it.”

“So, how’s 20 treating you so far?” Now, this is the point where I have to admit to myself and everyone else, that I am not the cleverest person. Because the question seemed so normal, and I was expecting it so much, that I seemed to have forgotten that I was not, in fact, old enough to be at this club. “Pretty fucking great,” I responded without thinking.

To Spencer’s credit, he didn’t say anything, but I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull. It took me another second yet to realize what I had just admitted. Fuck. Was he mad? I was scared to turn around.

He seemed to know that I wasn’t going to address it, and he wasn’t the kind of person to make a scene. So when his hand grabbed mine again, and I felt the insistence in his grasp, I knew that I was utterly and completely fucked. I grimaced to John, who just bust out laughing before calling out, “Oooh, jailbait got busted!”

My head fell backwards as I groaned, letting Spencer begin to drag me away from the crowd as I shouted, “I’m not jailbait, you dick!” I followed the boy I actually wanted to be with, not entirely ready to give up yet, and actually somehow looking forward to the lecture I was certain I was about to receive. As soon as we turned the corner into the small alley, he had backed me against a wall.

“What the fuck was that?!” His voice was hushed, although he was clearly still yelling. I bit down on my lip to stop myself from laughing. I raised my shoulders to shrug, but he continued, “You’re only twenty?! You can’t be here!”

“Well, actually, we’re in an alley, which I’m totally allowed to be in.” He did not appreciate my humor, and I crossed my arms over my chest, a heavy pout on my face.

“You know exactly what I mean. You’re not old enough to be at a club, and especially not drinking! What were you thinking?” He looked so delectable when he was angry, I’m not sure how he expected me to take him seriously. Resting my head against the brick wall behind me, I looked up at him with a bored expression. “What are you, a cop?”

I honestly wasn’t anticipating his response. Because when he responded, “An FBI special agent, actually,” all I could think was, “Oh shit, really?”

“Yeah, really, (y/n)!” He yelled back, taking a step back as I dropped my arms. “That’s so cool!” I responded with equal enthusiasm, which he clearly did not like. “What are you saying? That is not cool! None of this is cool!”

“I mean, I think it’s pretty cool.”

“I could have you arrested! I _should_ have you arrested!” The way I raised my eyebrows and smiled was clearly not the reaction he wanted, but I could tell he was intrigued by it. He paused, and I licked my lips with a wicked grin. “You gonna cuff me, _Special Agent_?”

I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, continuing to distance himself from me. I took a step forward to stop the distance from forming. “Wait, is it Special Agent or Doctor? I need to know now.” Before I could get too close to him, he had pressed his hand against my shoulder, pushing me back against the wall. _Fuck_ , that was hot.

“Cut it out! Stop trying to distract me,” his voice was stern, but his breath was ragged. One of my hands devilishly snuck up, wrapping around his arm that was holding me against the wall. “It’s not going to work,” he warned. I didn’t believe him.

“How am I distracting you, _Special Agent Dr. Reid_?” He could tell what I was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself from falling for it. “Is my proximity distracting you?” I was pushing his buttons, very purposefully and with a very specific goal. I wanted to see what happened when he broke.

“N-No, that’s not—“ I cut him off once more, leaning forward against his hand, dragging my nails against the skin of his arm, “Do you want to kiss me again?”

He had to think about the answer, and that angry, tempted face left me burning. I rubbed my legs together in anticipation, and he seemed to notice the subtle movement. With the strength I could muster, I inched his hand against my shoulder lower, letting him feel my heart racing above my breast.

“You do.” I responded to my own question, recognizing his silence as assent. I met his eyes in another challenge, knowing this time would be much easier than the last. He was already hooked. “Well then, Dr. Reid. You have at least two options. You can either dig out your work issued handcuffs, haul me downtown and explain what exactly happened between you and a drunk twenty year old girl at the club…” the pressure on my chest lessened as he obviously considered what it would require of him. “You can help them with all of the paperwork, prematurely ending the night, leaving me in a jail, and go home alone… ”

The compassion in his eyes was clear, and I knew it was a bit unfair of me to go for such low hanging fruit. He was a good man. He was just trying to follow the rules. He didn’t want to hurt me. Unless I asked for it, perhaps. “Or you can get into an Uber with me to go somewhere else, and I’ll let you do whatever you want with mine. Or yours. I’m fine with either.”

“My pair, or my place?” He asked, much to my surprise and excitement. I could feel the rush of blood in my ears, but I begged it to be quiet. I hadn’t closed the deal yet. “So you’re considering it?”

He finally released his hold on me, but he didn’t move away. He was so close to me I could almost feel the body warmth radiating from him. I couldn’t look down yet, but I’m relatively sure I know what I’d see bulging between his legs.

“I-I… I don’t know.” An honest answer, albeit disappointing. My puppy eyes demanded a clearer answer, though. He obeyed their call. “I’m a law enforcement agent that just caught you in a crime, since I’m assuming you got into that club with a relatively convincing fake ID that I’m certain you still have on you.” I nodded, still unsure where he was going with this monologue.

“I should be arresting you, or at least taking you somewhere safe, not… coming back with you for…” He trailed off, and I smirked a bit at his inability to finish that thought. “And yeah, I figured you were young but… I’m _ten_ years older than you.”

“And?” I finally asked, wanting him to get to the point that I had figured out, just so I could turn it down. Spencer took a deep breath before admitting, “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I get that there is no sudden change in your brain when you turn twenty one, but the younger you are, the less developed your prefrontal cortex is. Your judgment, your impulse control, the ability to truly anticipate the consequences of your actions, that won’t be fully developed for at _least_ another five years!”

He would have kept going, but I had already planned for this response. My hand on his arm jerked him forward, pulling his crotch directly into my other waiting hand. Completely on brand for him, a small yelp sounded as I gently palmed his erection. With an innocent smile, I whispered, “Dr. Reid, I don’t think you’re the one taking advantage here.”

His features were contorted into an infuriated, yet pleased mess. After another very brief moment of contemplation, he gave into the temptation I was dangling in front of him, laying a deep, frustrated kiss on my waiting mouth.

When we separated, he practically panted into my mouth, “Do you have a hotel room?”

Giggling, I nodded, “I guess I’ll call that Uber now, then.”


	2. Chapter Two

When the Uber finally came, Spencer opened the door for me and I was reminded that despite his awkwardness, he really was a gentleman. I slid through the backseat, just grateful the car didn’t smell like vomit or cigarettes to completely ruin the mood. “You just going up a couple blocks, huh?” The driver asked, to which I gave an enthusiastic, “Yep!”

Thankfully, he didn’t try to make any conversation beyond that. I was honestly a bit worried Spencer might start on a tangent that would take longer than the trip. But he was surprisingly quiet, instead opting to watch the buildings pass.

“I just realized,” I thought out loud, “I’m still not sure what you do.” Pulled from his thoughts, he turned to look at me with a troubled look. “I uh…” The secrecy was a bit concerning, but it wasn’t like he could do anything that scary, right? He worked for the FBI, after all.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I’m a profiler. I… read people.” God, he was so fucking impressive. He was obviously even trying to dumb it down for me, and I still couldn’t comprehend exactly what he did.

Suddenly, I was closing myself off to him, and I could feel it happening but I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“See, that’s exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” he explained, motioning to the way I crossed my arms and legs. I laughed nervously, forcing myself to drop my arms. Once I did, both of his hands grasped one of mine like they would break.

He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes sparkling with the things I wished he would say. But I would never know what he would have told me in that moment, because the Uber came to a stop, and the driver announced, “Hate to break the mood, but you’re gonna wanna get out here so you don’t have to cross the street.”

“Thanks,” I tried not to lace it with sarcasm, slightly irritated but understanding it wasn’t their fault. He waved to me as Spencer struggled to exit the car. _Thank god_ , I thought, he can still be an idiot, too.

Getting to the room was the easiest part of the night. We didn’t say anything as he released my hand and I led him over to the elevator. Just one more awkward, sexual tension filled moment away from being alone with him. It wasn’t until now that I realized how nervous I actually was.

It wasn’t my first one night stand, but it was the first one I had actually enjoyed each second of so far. Now that I was aware of his job, it made more sense why he was able to recognize my spiking anxiety. My attention on him again, I still felt like he was holding something back. I didn’t ask. In a strange way, I was worried that if he told me what he wanted to, I might not be able to let him go.

The doors slowly dragged open, and I almost waited for him to get off first before remembering that I was the one with the key. By the time we got to my room, I wasn’t sure how to act. It felt overwhelming and terrifying, to know that his entire job was reading people. Although, I was tempted to think he wasn’t the _best_ profiler if he hadn’t realized I was 20. Then again, maybe it had been wishful thinking. If so, I was a little flattered.

“If you’ve changed your mind, I just want you to know that’s okay.” His voice broke through the nonstop frantic analysis. I turned to face him, leaning against the doorframe. He still hadn’t fully come into the room. He was giving me an out that I definitely didn’t want to take.

“I haven’t… Have you?”

“No.” A short yet sweet reply that calmed some parts of me and terrified another. He took a meaningful step forward, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Although, now that we’re in better lighting and a quieter atmosphere, I’ve got to ask you something.” The way he approached me was not apprehensive. Somehow, it calmed me. “Go ahead,” I whispered once he got close enough for me to hook my hands in his pant pockets. “Do you have any other secrets to confess?”

My throat tightened as I tried to swallow, and with a shaky voice I said, “Well, I don’t actually have any handcuffs here.” He laughed in that bashful way that exposed vulnerability for just a split second. “I would be a little worried if you did.”

“And I’m worried I’m not good enough for you.” Well, there it was. There was no going back now. His eyebrows furrowed, a genuine look of confusion and sympathy. “I feel like I tricked you into coming here. And now you’re here and you’re so impressive and I’m just… me.”

One hand snaked around my waist, the other sliding behind my neck as he stared deeply into my eyes. “You didn’t trick me.” I tried to relax, but I couldn’t with this proximity. I also really didn’t want to pull away.

“You’re beautiful.” He said it like it was the simplest fact in the world. He said it so convincingly that I almost believed him. “So are you,” I said with a laugh. The tension began to disappear, and I could feel the mood in the room shift back to what it was before in the club.

That’s why I pressed on his arms, pulling them lightly away from me. I caught a hand, motioning to him to sit on the edge of the bed. He happily complied, watching me with rapt fascination as he took off his shoes and socks, unsure of what I would do next.

Once he had finished, I quickly climbed onto his lap, straddling him on my knees. Finally, I was seeing eye to eye with him again, literally. I wasn’t going to kiss him yet this time, though, instead opting to start disrobing him. My fingers worked each button on his shirt purposefully, enjoying each inch of skin that was revealed to me with each passing second.

He just watched me, I suspect gauging my response as I uncovered not only his body, but the scars that lined it. I didn’t pay them much attention, continuing like they weren’t there. I didn’t want him to remember the past when he was with me. I wanted him to be in the present, fully and completely. I wanted him to be with me.

Once I finished the final button, he helped me by shrugging it off his shoulders. He leaned back slightly, and I drank in the sight. I didn’t have to be a profiler to understand the signals this man was giving me. Seizing the moment, and driven by my own arousal, I grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift motion.

I was so grateful for the comfort of my bra still being in place, because no sooner had my shirt hit the floor than Spencer’s mouth was on my chest. A heavy moan was ripped from the back of my throat as his tongue dragged across the top of my breast peeking over the bra.

“Shit,” I muttered, raking my hands through his hair and holding him in place against my skin. His lips dragging behind that devilish tongue, he made his way up to my neck. I honestly thought I might scream, unable to handle how he seemed to be everywhere all at once. My toes curled as he suckled gently over my jugular, my hips beginning to rock against the steadily growing bulge in his pants.

“If you leave any marks on me, I swear to god, I will return the favor,” I growled, the words coming out laced with desire and promise. The way he gently bit down in response gave me his answer. Gasps and moans were all I could make out as his lips continued their assault.

At some point, I felt the strap of my bra snap open. He hadn’t even stopped for a second. I caught the cups against me with my arms, allowing him to continue as I asked, “what are you, a fucking magician?”

He finally looked up, revealing the mark on my collarbone in his wake. “I am, actually.”

“Of course you are,” I whispered, shoving him away from me with both hands. He braced the fall with his elbows, a clever look on his face. “Well, magician or not, it’s not fair if I’m the only one that’s naked.”

“You aren’t naked yet,” he corrected, motioning his hand to the space between us. “We’re actually equally naked right now, so. If you want anything else off, you’re going to have to reciprocate.”

“Yes sir.” The fire in his eyes at the title continued to tempt me. He acted like he was horrified that I was younger, but the authority and confidence he felt with me was obvious.

I climbed off his lap, dropping the bra and immediately leaning forward to unbuckle his belt. He didn’t stop me. He didn’t correct me to remove mine first. Perhaps, by the way his gaze fixated on me to the point he barely realized I had unzipped his pants already, he was a bit distracted by my bare chest peppered with the marks his mouth left.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” I was expecting another taunt, but he didn’t give one. Instead, he directly answered, “Yes.” Now wasn’t the time for me to get bashful, though. Tucking my fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, I began to pull them down. “My turn now.”

Assisting me in removing the garments, he also shifted to lay his head on the pillows, turning on his side to face me in all his glory. His eyes reminded me of the way you feel when the spotlights in a crowd fall on you. I tried not to look as terribly self conscious as I felt. But of course, it didn’t work. He noticed.

He inched closer to me before sitting back up, and I subconsciously held my arms against my chest. I started to wonder how many women he had seen naked, how many women he had been with. I’d only just met him, but I found myself really caring how he felt about me.

Spencer didn’t tell me to uncover myself. He didn’t tell me that I was beautiful. I think he knew that those things, though they sounded nice, wouldn’t change the overwhelming anxiety that I wasn’t woman enough for him. Instead, he took my hand, pulling me onto the bed next to him. I faced him, choosing to look into his eyes instead of his ridiculously well sculpted body. I guess he really was an FBI agent after all.

This time, when his lips pressed against my neck, they ghosted along the skin. He traced the lines of my collarbone and down my arm, ending at my fingertips. With one glance up, he could see the change in my demeanor. I was smiling.

Using one hand, he encouraged me onto my back and climbed on top of me. I gave a small, relaxed laugh at his hair tickling my breasts as he passed them, kissing below my sternum instead. His hands finally grabbing the edges of my spandex shorts and underwear, he carefully pulled them down, revealing the last piece of me to him.

He watched my expression carefully as I placed my hands on his shoulders, stepping out of the final garments. His hands danced along the curves of my legs to my back. His hands flat against my back, he didn’t stare at the parts of me he knew would make me nervous as he pulled me onto the bed with him.

Together we moved up the bed, and once we were finally settled, I straddled his lap similar to before, sitting just below his hips. With one finger he beckoned me closer to him, and I shyly crawled up to his face, going in for a kiss before I was surprised by one of his hands tightly gripping my inner thigh.

I closed my eyes, releasing a small, low moan as his hand trailed up and eventually separated my folds. His movements were unhurried, but I was becoming quickly desperate. He chuckled a bit at the way my hips followed his hands, silently begging him to finally do something. “You are so impatient.”

I bit my lip, not responding with words, and choosing instead to shift my weight to one side and free one hand. That free hand immediately shot down to grip his erect member with enough pressure to draw the same small, surprised groan from him.

“Bet I can last longer than you,” I taunted, beginning a slow, steady pace with my hand, watching as Spencer quickly became undone at my hands. Clearly, it was not distracting enough, because as I continued to work him, he suddenly slipped two fingers into my heat, causing me to almost fall on top of him.

“Yeah, I doubt that,” he replied, his other hand cupping one of my breasts. “I have two hands, a mouth, and an entire lifetime of multitasking on my side. _Ten years_ more than you.”

I could barely follow his words, my legs already beginning to shake. And that was before his mouth ceased talking and turned to my breast that he lightly massaged. It was impossible to follow where his tongue was on me. In the typical fashion of this man, he was everywhere, all at once.

My hand continued to pump, although my strokes became shorter and further between as the tension of my impending orgasm began to peak. Spencer must have been able to tell, because he quickly removed his hand and mouth from my chest, shifting up to pull me into a deep kiss.

I could barely give myself to the kiss as high pitched, quick pants rolled off my tongue into his mouth. His fingers began a new course as he began to gently stroke me from the inside while using his other thumb to circle my clit.

I released his cock, needing to brace myself with both arms as my upper half collapsed on his chest, the blinding pleasure of my orgasm causing my thighs to violently shake and my walls to close around his fingers, which didn’t dissuade him from continuing throughout the entire duration.

Once it had finally finished, it took all the strength I had to pull myself back up and return to my sitting position. As I tried to refocus my vision from its hazy, half-lidded position, Spencer reached over the side of the bed to grab a condom from his pants pocket.

“Dr. Reid!” I gasped in feigned surprise, “Why on earth would an upstanding FBI Special Agent like yourself have such salacious things readily available?” Snatching the package from him, I quickly tore the foil open. Pinching the tip, I rolled the latex over him with a few small pumps.

“Better question is why a young girl like yourself is so good at that,” his eyes took on a distinctly predatory glint. Assuming my previous position on all fours above him, I whispered with a simper, “Are you jealous, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer was not playing any games. Because as soon as the words left my mouth, he had lined himself up at my entrance and thrust into me in one swift motion. The satisfied smile on his face fired up my competitive side, causing me to sit up as I settled onto him, attempting to become accustomed to the feeling of him inside me.

Although his hands were fixed securely on my hips, he did not try to move me. Instead, he granted me the power to move as I please. Any shyness or insecurity was quickly forgotten as my hips began rocking. Each time I shifted forward I would lift my hips at an agonizingly slow pace. Truthfully, I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t used to someone of his size, and I wanted to remember each second of this experience.

The look on his face was also a treat; the mysterious stranger below me shifting back and forth between frustrated and completely lost in the drunkenness of lust. When his eyes met mine, I picked up my pace, leaning forward as I placed my hands on either side of his head. Exasperated and defenseless to my ministrations, he roughly groaned, “Fuck.”

“Language, Dr. Reid.” My hips began to slow again, lifting almost completely off him and leisurely lowering back down to take him in completely.

“Don’t tease me.” It was a simple instruction, but I wasn’t exactly a model student.

“Hmmm,” I hummed, shifting back and forth as I lifted once more as I stubbornly muttered, “No.” I had to admit the way the fire brewed in his face in response was what I was after. As much as I loved being on top and being in control, I wanted to see what this man was truly capable of.

“No?” He asked, giving me one more chance to listen to him. I laughed weakly between moans, the feeling of his hands tightening their grip on my ass sparking arousal through me like lightning.

“You heard me.”

“You’re going to regret that.” Spencer didn’t protest again, taking matters into his own hands the next time I had completed my ascent. He thrust up into me at the same time he used all his strength to fully sheath himself inside me. The mangled cry of pleasure I let out was by far the loudest noise I’d made tonight, which only served to stroke his ego.

His pace only increased as he wrapped an arm around my lower back. Our chests pressed firmly against each other; I could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest. I knew I couldn’t last long, and the heady, uninhibited atmosphere of the room overtook me. My knuckles going white as I gripped his biceps, sure to leave 10 crescent shaped indents as evidence.

“S-Spencer,” I choked out as he continued his punishing pace. I didn’t even mean to use his name, but from the growl in my ear, I think he liked it. He threw his head back, his eyes closed as I mewled helplessly.

It didn’t take much longer until I felt my legs shaking once more, and as I rode the brink of my second orgasm, I opened my eyes once more to prove to myself that he was enjoying it as much as I was. Sure enough, Spencer Reid looked absolutely frantic in the unmuted pleasure. That stare he gave as he drove into me was what finally made me come fully undone, one last silent scream as my velvety slickness throbbed around his cock, begging him to follow me into the glorious abyss.

And with a few more staggered thrusts, he did, his hand scratching across my lower back as he released himself. I arched at the sensation once more before collapsing entirely onto his chest. I wasn’t sure which one of us was more exhausted in the sweaty, gasping aftermath. We just laid there together, neither of us wanting to move yet. He had an arm laid over his face, trying to catch his breath.

“Hey, Spencer?” My voice was the first to break the silence, and he moved his arm to look down at me. “Yeah?” He asked as he continued to try and breathe.

“I don’t regret it,” I explained. His big, goofy grin made me laugh as I finally had the capacity to lift myself enough to flop unceremoniously off of him.

“Hey (y/n),” he started, turning his head to the side to take one last glance at my naked form before we had to figure out the logistics of everything else. “Yeah?” The smile on my face was just as obvious in my voice.

“Me neither.” 

( _The Next Morning_ )

Waking up next to Spencer was like waking up to find that your dream was reality. The way the sunbeam peeked through the curtain just to shine light on his peacefully sleeping face should be criminal. I hesitantly reached out, slowly moving the hair from his face. His eyes fluttered open, a large grin forming as he mumbled, “G’morning.”

I could tell from his slight wince that he must have had a little bit of a hangover, which I did not envy. “Ah, the joys of being 20 and not getting hungover from one night out,” I joked. “ _Old man_.” He rolled his eyes, running both hands over his face as he turned onto his back. “Shut up. Don’t brag. And don’t remind me.”

“Of last night? How rude. I thought we had a wonderful time.” I sat up, letting the covers fall off and expose my bare chest. Unable to suppress his desire, he peeked from behind his hands.

“It’s downright criminal that you look like that right now,” he mumbled. I could hear a bit of a tease in his choice of words, a sense of humor I wasn’t expecting this early in the morning. Leaning over, I laid a cheeky kiss on his lips. “I aim to misbehave.”

“Don’t quote Serenity at me,” he lightheartedly warned. “It’s already going to be hard to leave.”

I slid my hand over his bare chest, resting over his heart. I wanted to see the effect my words had on it. “Then don’t.”

His heart didn’t skip a beat, but it certainly got faster. It was like I’d knocked the air out of his lungs. “Seize the time. Live now,” I said, my voice gravelly as I mimicked Captain Picard. “Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again.”

“You did _not_ just quote Star Trek,” he groaned with a visibly pained expression that he covered with his hands. “Were you even born yet in 1992?”

“Does it matter?” I asked with a laugh, and he sighed.

“I have to get up before you do something else to try and make me fall in love with you.” The words were music to my ears, and I felt my cheeks redden at the thought. It was enough of a surprise that I didn’t protest, letting him slip out of the bed and trudge over to the bathroom. I watched the way his hips moved, ogling him from behind one more time. After all, it might be the last. 

Just as the sink began running, I heard an unfamiliar, muffled ringtone from the other side of the bed. I crawled over to locate the sound shoved between the pillows. It was his phone, with the name “Hotchner” across the front.

I can’t explain what came over me, but for some reason I just had to mess with him. I heard the water shut off, and he called, “Is that my phone?” But he was too late, because my answer to his question was said to the party on the other side of the call.

“Hello, you’ve reached Special Agent Dr. Reid’s phone.” A chaotic silence ensued on the other side of the phone, complete with someone snickering.

“Hello, this is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, may I speak with Dr. Reid?”

I could barely hear him over my own laughter as Spencer ran into every object between the bathroom and the bed. “Oh, you son of a—“ he was also laughing, despite his absolute lunacy in this moment. He swiped the phone away from me, but I grabbed onto him to pull him onto the bed with me. He gladly sat down, finally clearing his throat and saying, “Hey, uh, hello. You’ve got Reid.”

“And someone else, it seems,” the man named Hotchner said. I covered my mouth and bit down on my tongue as Reid shot me a cute death glare, which made it significantly less threatening. Spreading out my legs, I sat behind him, draping my arms over his shoulders and chest. I rested my chin on his shoulder while he listened intently to the other side.

“Listen, Reid, there seems to be some problem back at Quantico. We have to head back now. We have your things but we need to get you. Where are you?” I could see the wheels in his head turning as he glanced around the room, clearly trying to figure out which hotel we were in. I knew he was bright enough to figure it out, but I wasn’t done building up a case to tease him with.

“The Mayflower Hotel,” I said sweetly into the phone over his shoulder.

Spencer glanced over at me again, but this time he wasn’t annoyed. He seemed… happy. My hands dangled over his chest, and I began to trace small patterns over him.

“Okay. We’ll be there in 20 minutes. Be ready.”

“Got it,” Spencer replied before Hotchner continued. “And Reid?” I noticed him holding his breath as he waited for the rest of the sentence.

“Go easy on her.” The line cut out before Spencer could protest.

“Ooo, your boss man is on my side,” I teased. Spencer reached a hand up, grabbing hold of one of mine, seemingly enjoying the warmth I provided in the chilly hotel room. I placed gentle kisses against his neck, softly exhaling against his skin.

“You know…” I whispered, “I still haven’t delivered on my promise to give you some marks of your own… And there’s a lot that can happen in 20 minutes.”

Anyone could guess what happened next, but I’ll leave you with this:

He was definitely late for his ride.


	3. Chapter Three

It was Saturday night and I had nothing to do. My roommate had gone home for the weekend and all my other friends were at bars. I could have joined them, but it just didn’t seem worth it. The last time had been so perfect, I just couldn’t imagine anything else would compare.

I’d tried going back to the same area a few times, but I never saw him again. Then again, seeing me back there might just piss him off. That was okay. He was pretty cute when he was mad.

So now I was just sitting in my apartment, staring at my textbook I wasn’t even interested in reading. I wished something could save me from this.

 _Bzzt_. _Bzzt_. _Bzzt_.

I looked down at my phone, fully expecting it to just be someone tagging me in a picture of a cat. But it wasn’t. The number was one I had saved in my phone, hoping that I would see it pop up again one day.

It had been over a month. I didn’t think it would ever happen. But there it was, a text message from Dr. Reid himself.

“Hey (y/n).” When I slid the message open, I saw he was still typing.

“Long time no talk,” was his second message.

That was an understatement.

“Hey yourself.” It was a cursory response. I wanted him to sweat a bit. He’d made me wait, so now he had to deal with the consequences.

I quickly followed with a second text. “Texting isn’t talking you know.”

“You never called. Why should I?” His response was so quick I swore he had this all planned out in his head. He was playing me like a chess board. Bet he was good at that too.

“It takes two to tango, Dr. Reid,” I jokingly replied. He read the message, but didn’t answer. Getting nervous that he was losing interest, I continued typing.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to see me again after I made you late. Are those marks still there?” I smiled at the memory. By the time he’d made it down to his ride, I had covered his neck in petechiae and his back with scratches. I’d wanted him to remember me.

It had worked.

He’d been typing for awhile and I was getting anxious. It was a bold message to send. Was he trying to let me down easy? No, that didn’t make any sense. Who the fuck texts a one night stand at 10:30 PM on a Saturday after not speaking for a month just to end things?

He responded. “Sadly, no. And I wouldn’t be so quick to assume I don’t want to see you because of that… Revenge is a powerful motivator.”

That was the cheeky bastard I wanted to see. I could be sassy too, Spencer.

“Is it?”

“Where are you tonight?” His answers were starting to make my heart race. I had to get ready, because he was definitely about to ask me to be his booty call and I was _definitely_ going to do it.

Closing my textbook, I shot back another teasing reply. “Not a club. I’m being a good girl tonight. All by my lonesome.”

Thank god my roommate wasn’t here and I had somehow been bored enough to clean today. I pulled out my make up and turned the light on my mirror on. As I started to apply, I got a message that immediately solidified my answer to his inevitable proposition.

“Do you want to change that?”

God, yes, I did. I waited another minute, wanting to be able to finish at least the bare minimum before he saw me. I knew he wasn’t a superficial guy, but the last time he saw me I had gone full out.

“Which part?” I responded, already knowing his answer.

“Both.” So unpredictable in the most satisfying way. I took a deep breath and a pause, tapping back a confident reply.

“Are you trying to entrap me, Agent?”

His reply was within seconds, and I was immediately reminded of how incredibly clever this man was. He knew exactly what to say to make me melt.

“Is that what you want?”

I wanted to pick up the phone, dial, and scream yes. But I didn’t, opting instead for a calm and composed, “That would certainly be exciting.”

My application was significantly quicker now, and I was already eyeing the special drawer I had for these exact situations. Should I wear something for him?

“Send me your address.” Oh god. It was happening. He was coming over. This wasn’t a dream, right? I was definitely wearing something for him.

With shaking hands, I thumbed out my address with no other commentary. In a few seconds, I would know how long I had until Spencer Reid was in my apartment. Oh, god.

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” Thank god. It was time to prepare.

— **20 minutes later** —

Any minute now Spencer Reid would be at my door and I was suddenly terrified that he’d be disappointed.

We’d had a good time, right? I’d played it in my head over and over again since it happened. I was reminded of the soft way he’d touched me in the morning, the childish laughs we’d shared, and the smell of his cologne on the sheets.

God, I hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed.

 ** _Knock Knock Knock_**.

When I heard the sound, I immediately tried to fix my appearance in the mirror. I had opted for one of my easier-to-remove loungewear pieces. A simple white lace negligee. Slowly exhaling, I composed myself before opening the door.

“Hello, Dr. Reid.” He looked as handsome as ever, although I did have the distinct impression that it had been awhile since he had a full nights sleep. I wondered why.

“Hello yourself,” he responded, his eyes ravaging my figure as I stepped out from behind the door. He waited for me to take a step back and fully open the door before he walked in, and I watched the way he scanned my apartment. I wondered what he saw.

“How can I help you, Agent?”

It was a tease, and from the look on his face when he finally turned to me, it took him a moment to figure it out. He was too much in his work brain. I could feel it. I’d never seen him at work, but I could tell.

“You seem tense,” I spoke coyly, stepping closer and running my hands up his chest and onto his shoulders.

He didn’t speak; instead his gaze bored into me, like he was going to lose his composure any second. But he was holding back. 

“Can I help you with that?” That dark shine in his eyes was getting stronger.

“That depends.” As he spoke the words, he finally touched me, a sneaky hand finding its way to my hip. I lightly gasped, my eyes fluttering shut. He had this immediate intoxicating effect on me that I just couldn’t explain.

“Hmm… On what?” I murmured, trying to follow his hand as it snuck to my lower back, pulling me closer. I tilted my head to look up at him as I opened my eyes, wanting to see that look again.

Although he appeared stoic, I knew there was something brewing. I knew that he was reveling in the effect he had on me. Such a quiet, peculiar mind.

“What do you have in mind?”

He was asking me for my limits. He wanted me to tell him what he was allowed to do. I didn’t know how to tell him that I would do anything for him. How could he not already know my answer?

“Whatever you need.”

I heard his soft chuckle, bringing a smile to both of our lips as he used his free hand to stroke the side of my face. I quickly leaned into his touch, trying to prolong the contact.

“Is that so?”

 _Yes,_ I thought before saying, “Anything.”

His thumb glided over my cheek and to my lips, gently separating them as he stared at me with a morbid curiosity. He was wondering how far he could actually push me. So was I.

In lieu of an answer, I slipped his thumb into my mouth, running my tongue up it before closing around it. The gentle sucking was mixed with soft rotations of my tongue. His breathing rate increased as he stepped forward, his body now flush against mine.

“And if you change your mind?”

What a gentleman. I wouldn’t, but I chose to indulge the proper form. I released his thumb, holding my mouth open for a second before biting down on my bottom lip.

“Hmmm,” I hummed as I thought about what I might be able to say to set him off. I needed a safe word that would drive him wild. The thing was, I only knew a few of his interests. But I did know enough.

“Starship.” The effect the word had on him was immediate, his hand shifting to hold onto my chin. He used that grip to push me against the wall to the side of us, and our mouths connected just as harshly. What a ridiculously sexy nerd.

The impact of my back against the wall was nothing compared to the fire coursing through my veins. My hands scrambled to grab onto his belt buckle, already trying to unwrap the present meant just for me tonight.

Once I got the metal separated, I smiled into the sloppy, heated kiss. He stopped, pulling away to look down at my satisfied grin. He didn’t say anything.

“What’s that look for?” I said with half-veiled bashfulness. Did he notice something that I didn’t? Was I going too fast?

“Nothing. It’s just…” Please don’t be something I did wrong. He continued, “You’re so cute when you think you’re in charge.”

I couldn’t control the way my hips rolled against the front of him as he spoke, and I licked my lips before concluding, “I am in charge.”

I don’t know how Spencer was so fast, but he was. Within seconds, he had both of my wrists pinned against the wall behind me. Just as quickly, he shifted so he could hold them both up with one hand, the other lifting the side of negligee so he could touch the skin of my hip. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Adorable.” He whispered to me, and my body reacted by trying to regain control, to touch him more somehow. He took a step back, letting go of my wrists and watching them fall back to my control.

“Are you challenging me, Dr. Reid?” He gave a content, sarcastic smile before shrugging.

“No, I’m not, actually. It’s not a challenge if I already know I’m going to win.”

I could barely notice the way I puffed out my own chest in response, ready to give him the challenge he was so clearly begging for.

“Fine.” I put my hands in the air in surrender, turning and strutting my fine ass down the hallway in front of him. I didn’t turn around, and I didn’t tell him to follow. He would.

I took a seat on the side of my bed, crossing my legs over the other and looking down at my nails with a bored expression. Before I knew it, he was crossing the threshold into my room.

He walked up to me, his hands in his pockets as he spoke with far too much confidence. “I know what you’re doing.” He had something up his sleeve. I could feel it.

“What am I doing, Dr. Reid?”

The way he approached me reminded me of a hunt. The cautious, quiet strides toward me were purposeful. He stopped just in front of me, my foot resting against his shin.

“I thought I already warned you what would happen if you did this.”

“Do what?” I feigned innocence, raising my hand to my neck before perching my chin on it, leaning forward.

“Tease me.” This time when his hand made contact, it was on the top of my head, running gently through my hair. The feather light touches almost tricked me, but shortly after he had gripped the back of my hair in his hand, roughly tilting my head back to him.

“I thought you said you were going to be a good girl tonight?”

I bit down harshly on my lip to stifle my giggle as he tightened his grip. “Oops,” I said with a smile.

Suppressing my laughs enough to string together a sentence, I pressed my hands against his chest while he maintained his grip on my hair.

“I guess if you really want me to be a good girl, Dr. Reid… You’ll have to **_make me_**.”

That instruction was what I needed to break the man in front of me. It was the command he’d been waiting for, the bait for him to finally take what he came for.

Before I knew it, he had spun me around, abruptly yanking my arms behind me as he bent me over the side of the bed. An unfamiliar, harsh cold material on my wrists told me all I needed to know. The clanking of the short chain when he released my hands was music to my ears.

That beautiful son of a bitch actually brought his handcuffs.

“At least one of us follows orders,” I joked, happily remaining on display for the man behind me. I’m sure he noticed earlier that there wasn’t anything blocking him from taking what he wanted underneath the negligee.

But he didn’t take it, instead pulling me up by the handcuffs, letting me teeter onto my feet before he twirled me back to face him.

“Get ready to learn,” Spencer countered, slowly removing his tie from his neck while he watched me squirm. His threat raised the tension in the room, but he gave me no clue as to what he was about to make me do.

I couldn’t wait.

Once he had removed his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt. It was infuriating not being able to touch him, and I was quickly becoming impatient. My thighs were pressed together, and the friction from rubbing them back and forth was the only stimulation I could find right now.

He raised his eyebrows as he noticed, shooting me a warning glance that I knew meant to stop. I did, but only because I was worried he would make me wait even longer if I didn’t.

“Get on your knees.”

I swayed back and forth, prying my hands apart to shake the chain holding my hands back.

“I can’t,” I said with a pout.

Spencer seemed to be entertained, and for a moment I thought he might give in. He leaned over, a quiet breath in my ear as he gave a few words of caution.

“Get on your knees or I will _bend you over mine_.”

My legs shook at the way his breath felt on my ear, and the words made me want to melt. He really know how to get me to do what he wanted, didn’t he?

Deciding that I didn’t want to be a full on brat right off the bat, I gradually lowered down to my knees, looking up as I sulked.

“I want to touch you.” I complained, tugging at the chain again. He must have known it was a test. I had been so open to the hand cuffs being on before, and I still was. I just wanted to see how much power a pout had.

“You don’t need your hands for that.” Judging from his response, my puppy dog eyes didn’t have very much power at all. In a twisted way, I was glad.

I wanted him to do whatever he needed. I wanted to be what he needed. I would be the fight he could always win.

So when he finally pulled his pants down, letting them fall to the ground and brandishing himself in front of me, I leaned forward to reach him.

A stern hand fisting my hair once more stopped me, leaving me hanging in front of him. He didn’t say anything, just watching me as I returned soft whines, rubbing my legs together once more.

“For a brat, you’re very eager. You don’t even realize you’re challenging me, do you?”

Fuck, he was right. Even now, on my knees and handcuffed before him, I was trying to take back my control.

He released my hair, smoothing it over the top of my head as he licked his lips. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

“Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should just let you beg.”

I bounced on my knees, trying to express what I wanted without resorting to outright begging. Not yet.

“I’ll listen to you, I promise.” 

“Good,” he acknowledged. “Open your mouth.”

I obeyed, opening my mouth wide with my tongue forward to receive him. As he pushed his dick into my mouth, he would only give me a couple inches before retreating. He continued this pattern until he had gotten over half of it into my mouth.

This time, he paused, granting me a pleased groan as he let his head fall back. I responded in earnest, continuing to move forward as my tongue swiped over whatever it could reach.

When I pulled back, I barely released any of him before going even further forward. I looked up at his face to see if he was impressed. He was.

Shortly after, I choked softly as he hit the back of my throat. I receded enough to take a deep breath through my nose. God, I wished I could use my hands now.

Just like that, I swore he heard my thoughts. Because after I finished my breath, his hands found the back of my head, pulling me even further onto him.

This time as I choked, I swallowed. I could feel him slip further down my throat, blocking the air supply just for a second. When he pulled me back, I knew this was just the beginning. Now that he knew what I was capable of, he was ready to regain the control.

Sure enough, he set a moderate pace of thrusting into my throat, keeping direct eye contact with me as he did so. I paid all my attention on making sure I timed my breath, feeling tears prick the inside of my eyes as I let him take over.

He was so beautiful like this. I thought about what it must be like for him at his job, that I was the first thing he came to. I decided right then, that he would never feel powerless with me. I would be anything he needed.

Suddenly, his pace slowed down, eventually slowing to a stop. He slipped himself out of my mouth, and the strings of spit snapped onto my chin. I couldn’t do anything to stop the running make up or saliva with both of my hands behind my back. I’m certain I looked like an absolute mess.

My knees were weak from the position, and Spencer had never looked so pleased. Bending over, he grabbed me under my arms, hauling me effortlessly up onto the bed.

His hands casually wiped the tears from my cheeks, using the back of his hand to clean the area around my mouth.

“You are so beautiful,” he uttered. _Oh my god, I think I might love him._

“You’re not bad yourself,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from what we’d just done.

“Tell me what you want,” he dared me, his hand dropping from my hand down to my lap.

“Whatever you want.” It was the answer I had already promised him. He had still maintained eye contact, staring directly into my soul as he snuck his hand between my thighs.

The lack of underwear made his job so much simpler, and I was thanking myself for not putting another barrier between the two of us. Because as much as I wanted to be patient for him, I was growing desperate.

Which is why when he finally touched me, his finger slid into my core with ease. The slickness that had pooled was more than even I expected from the complete lack of stimulation I had received.

His finger wasn’t there for long, as he briskly removed it and held it up to my face. Rubbing his fingers together, he smiled as I struggled to breathe through the teasing.

“I’ve barely touched you… And yet…” He taunted, causing me to roll my hips, trying to get to something wholly out of my reach.

“Please, Spencer,” I was ready to start begging.

“Please what? Use your words.” He was _loving_ this. He knew damn well that I had absolutely no control over what I wanted. I couldn’t grab him, and I couldn’t touch myself. All I could do was beg.

“Fuck me. Please.” It was as straightforward as I could possibly be.

“Still so impatient… so needy.” He laughed, his hand returning to its place between my thighs.

I wailed as he began thumbing my clit. It was mind-numbing. He knew that I desperately wanted to be filled, and he was doing the exact opposite.

“Yes,” I panted. “I need you. I need you to fuck me. **Please**.”

Spencer did not stop, continuing to stroke the bundle of nerves with quick, repetitive motions.

“Not yet, little girl,” he growled in my ear. It didn’t take long for my cries to pick up, my hips rocking furiously as he drove me into my first orgasm.

A steady flow of pants and cries were mixed with mangled attempts to call his name. He didn’t stop, refusing to touch me anywhere but the one spot until I finally ceased shaking.

I almost fell backwards, but he caught me with an arm around the waist. I could barely see straight, and he held my delirious body upright for a moment. I could tell he was wondering if I was alright.

The concern mixed with overwhelming desire was too much. Even now, as he tortured me with pleasure, I could see what an incredibly kind man he was. That was the only way this would work, I thought. I had to trust him. And I did. I trusted him with my life.

“Tell me what you want,” he uttered, offering me a guilt-free retreat that I would not take.

“You,” I purred. “I want you, Spencer.”

Finally allowing himself to give in to both of our desires, Spencer turned me onto my stomach one more time. When I heard the crumpling noise of foil as he tore the condom wrapper open, I raised my hips into the air, standing on my tip toes as I rested my head and chest against the bed.

He didn’t say anything else, lazily rubbing the head of his member against my velvety core. A trembling, relieved sigh escaped my lips as I felt him breach my opening.

He took his time inching into me, like he was savoring the way I clenched around him as he stretched me open. I wished I could see the look on his face, but I could barely keep my eyes open as the rapture overtook me.

Once he was fully in me, he paused, grabbing hold of my locked wrists as yet another reminder that he was in charge here. I wasn’t going to fight him if he kept this up, that was for sure.

Almost pulling himself entirely out, he jerked me back as he snapped his hips forward, bottoming out inside me. I yelled out at the sensation, which clearly cheered him on.

His pace went from composed to frenetic in a matter of seconds, and each time he would slam into me, I couldn’t stop the loud moans and cries from spilling out of my mouth.

He didn’t let them dissuade him. I was pretty sure he very much enjoyed the fact that I couldn’t control myself. He was the one doing this to me.

But, in typical, sympathetic Spencer fashion, he leaned over me from behind, wrapping a hand over my mouth to stifle the noises. Didn’t want to wake anyone up, after all.

I could barely breathe as he fucked me into the bed, my feet lifting off the ground from the sheer force he used in each thrust. I let him take out all his pent up frustration on me, enjoying the harsh sting as his skin slapped against mine.

I wasn’t going to last much longer. We both knew that we were riding dangerously close to the edge. As much as I didn’t want it to end, I was ready to fall off that cliff with him.

His thrusts became jagged and stunted, and my thighs tensed tightly together. I chanted his name into his hand, unable to control myself as I felt my muscles flutter around his cock, urging him to finish with me.

He happily obliged, pulling me roughly back to him one more time, our hips violently colliding as he held me down as far as he could onto him and emptied himself inside of me.

I could feel the soft twitching underneath the latex separating us, and I started to wonder things you’re _not_ supposed to wonder about a booty call. I’d come back to that later.

A booty call. A one-night-stand. Were we still just that? I wasn’t going to ask… yet.

It felt so cold when he peeled himself off my back, slowly removing all of himself from me. I whined at the friction following the overstimulation, my legs shaking once more as my feet scrambled to touch the floor.

I couldn’t see him, but I heard him throwing the condom in the trash before going through his clothes. Soon after, his hands were gingerly repositioning mine, granting him access to remove the cuffs.

Once he’d slipped them off, I realized just how numb my arms had gone. They flopped uselessly to my sides, and I struggled to move my fingers.

Spencer’s arms were around me before I knew what was going on. Delicately, he turned me onto my back despite my protesting groans. His touch was so gentle in a way I can’t explain. He was acting like I would shatter at his fingertips.

“Wait here,” he spoke in a hushed voice, placing a gentle kiss against my cheek. I would wait anywhere for him.

While I waited, I moved just enough that my entire body was on the bed, inching up to the pillows as I regained my strength. My wrists were irritated and dented, but I couldn’t really care. If anything, it was proof that this night wasn’t just a wild fever dream.

I saw Spencer out of the corner of my eyes, carrying an assortment of items that I couldn’t help but laugh at.

“I come bearing gifts,” he snickered, dropping two bottles of Gatorade, a bottle of Advil, and lotion onto my bed.

“My hero,” I spoke through the daze as I watched him pull his underwear back on. Understanding that the Advil was to stop my wrists from hurting, I took a couple quickly.

“Awwe. I like the way you look without them, though,” I teased, motioning to bottom half. “You have a cute butt.”

He just chuckled, sitting down next to me and pumping lotion into a hand before motioning for me to give him my wrist.

I turned onto my side, presenting him with my hand. Once he started to work the tired, abused muscles, I watched his face. The way he watched his work, like he was trying to rebuild my wrist to the way he found it. He was so careful.

After a few moments, he held out his hand to switch, to which I also obliged.

I muttered a soft, “Thank you.” He only gave me a fleeting glance before returning to our hands.

“It’s the least I can do. After what you let me do.” It was a bit of a joke, but also very genuine. He didn’t call it aftercare, but that’s what this was. I was familiar with it. He was good at it.

Once he was satisfied that my wrists were going to be okay, he turned to his side to look at me. I looked up at him and wondered if he noticed that I saw the world in his eyes.

I wondered if he could sense the overwhelming joy that flowed between us. I wondered if it was just in my mind that it was going both ways.

“I hope you know that I really do appreciate you.” His tone was serious. My heart fluttered in my chest.

“Is there anything you need from me?” Yes. Everything. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t. _This doesn’t mean anything,_ I reminded myself. He was just doing what he had to.

“No.” I lied.

I think he knew I was lying. Scratch that, it’s his job to read people. Of course he knew.

He draped an arm over me, scooting closer to me until my head rested against his arm. He gave my forehead a chaste kiss, moving his fingers unhurriedly against the bare skin on my back.

I could fall asleep just like this, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel this close to him forever. I started to think about my previous thoughts I had during sex. He was about that age men started to want kids and…

“Do you want kids, Spencer?”

Oh, fuck, had I just said that out loud?

He looked as surprised as me, and for a moment his hands stopped clean in their tracks. Oh no.

“Uhh,” He cleared his throat, “Yeah, I do. Wh-Why do you ask?”

Although he continued to drag his fingers across my back, it was different now. He was suddenly much more distant. Shit.

“I was just wondering. You’re good at taking care of people.” It _was_ true. If he noticed I was covering my ass, he didn’t say anything about it. Thank god.

“I’m not actually too sure about that. Right now you just think I’m good at it because your body is coursing with endorphins and adrenaline. The chemical process of love is extremely finicky and easily mimicked. Especially post-orgasm. Once that goes away, you might find you feel differently about me.”

I doubted it.

I shifted away from him, backing up so I could see his face again. He continued, “You know, almost half of women surveyed said they felt anxiety and overwhelming sadness after sex. They even coined a term for it, aside from the typical sub-drop discussed in communities of more extreme sex. ‘Post-coital dysphoria.’ It’s a shame really, that the idea of reassurance after sex isn’t more mainstream.”

Sometimes it was easy for me to forget he was some kind of genius. I always saw him at his most confident, which happened to also be his most quiet. As he taught me about things that I definitely should have been taught in high school sex education (but was not), I was not filled with anxiety or sadness.

In fact, I was happy. I didn’t really know him, but I wanted to.

“I can see why people mistake sex for love sometimes, then.” I mumbled, not realizing the weight behind my words. He pulled his hand back, running it through his hair as he cleared his throat again.

Oh no, he was doing it again.

“Yeah,” he agreed nonetheless, “It’s pretty common.”

I took a deep breath, panicking on how to pull him back to me. I lightly stretched, shifting to sit up and put some literal distance between us before the figurative distance was too far.

“Well, no worries here, Dr. Reid. I can confidently say I am not in love with you.” I said as I sat up. I could feel his eyes following me. I said I was confident, because I was. I was not in love with him.

Was I _falling_ in love with him? It was a different question. I didn’t know the answer to that one.

I excused myself for a moment to go to the bathroom and freak out in isolation. I could not believe I was somehow incapable of controlling my words around him. He just had this face. This face that made you want to spill your heart out to him. Did he know that?

Whatever.

When I made it back to the bed, he was already half-asleep. He looked so peaceful and unassuming compared to the dominating personality I had seen not even ten minutes ago.

As quietly as I could, I snuck into my side of the bed. He began to stir, so I came up behind him, wrapping an arm over his waist.

“You know, they say it’s dangerous to stay the night after a one-night-stand.” I whispered, resting my face on his shoulder. “People might get attached.”

“Technically this would be a two night-stand, so I don’t think the same rules apply,” he grumbled, placing his hand over mine on his stomach.

“Well, if you _really_ want to get technical, we are a one-night-stand plus a booty call.” I corrected, earning a playful scoff from the man beside me.

“Pretty sure those are mutually exclusive.” He theorized, readjusting so he was on his back, inviting me to drape myself over him.

I tried to repeat to myself that he was just trying to be nice. He was doing what all people are _supposed_ to do after sex.

It doesn’t mean anything, I try to convince myself. It doesn’t mean anything.

“You’re right.” I am still trying to convince myself. It’s not working.

Fuck it.

“We could be something more. If you want to.”

His entire body tensed under my touch, like my words had inflicted pain. From my position half on top of him I felt his chest stop moving as he held his breath. I shouldn’t have said it.

“(Y/n) I—“ I know this tone. I’ve heard it before. He was going to tell me he couldn’t be with me. We couldn’t ‘date.’

And I knew that. He was a fucking FBI agent and he was 10 years older than me. I barely knew anything about him. Had he ever even had a girlfriend? Did he have one now? Fuck, I didn’t even know.

He was struggling to come up with a way to let me down easy, and I didn’t want to hear it. I covered his mouth with my hand, stopping him before he ended things for good.

“Friends, Spencer. I meant we can be friends.” Suddenly, we could both breathe again.

“I’d like that.” The tension melted from the room, but only so much. There was still a wall between us. I wasn’t sure if it would ever go away.

“Me too,” I lied. I don’t want to be friends. I was scared what ‘friends’ meant. I was nervous that this was me giving him an out to never talk to me again. I was petrified that he’d lose the ability to see me as anything more than a mistake he made.

I didn’t tell him any of this. And if he noticed, which I’m positive he did, he didn’t say anything about it. I was sure he wouldn’t. Because even though he was about to shut me down, I know part of him was craving the intimacy I was willing to offer him. I guess I’d just have to do it quietly for now.

After a minute of listening to his heart beating rhythmically underneath me, he rolled over once more. This time I joined him, turning so he could pull me as close to him as he wanted. There was no barrier here.

My body fit next to his like it had been molded for that purpose. I curled into the warmth, savoring these quiet moments.

As I drifted off into sleep in his arms, our legs tangled together like we were part of the same two headed beast,my last thought was the one I’ve been trying to avoid.

Friends don’t do this.

— **The Next Morning** —

Waking up next to Spencer in my bed was somehow even more ethereal than before. Although I had shifted several times in my sleep, each time he had found me in the darkness to cling to me again.

I didn’t want to move. I was worried I would wake him. I thought back to how tired he had looked when he first got here. I was still not certain what a profiler is, but the haunted look in his eyes and the tension in his muscles told me it wasn’t easy.

I ghosted my fingers over his hand splayed out on my stomach, and the touch only served to make him pull me closer to him.

He was like a child with his favorite toy.

I continued to run my hands along his, eventually going up his arm. I didn’t want him to wake up, but I also didn’t want him to be awoken with another notice that he had to leave. I wondered what the morning would be like without a time limit.

When Spencer began to stir, the first thing he did was bury his face between my shoulder and neck. I giggled at the tickling sensation of his breath. He responded by peppering the area with short, light kisses.

It was my favorite way to say good morning.

“Good morning, Spencer.” He didn’t speak, just humming back contentedly as his kisses became more involved.

“Now who’s the needy one?” I teased, tilting my head to grant him more access.

“Still you,” he sighed against my skin.

“You know what I _really_ need?” I began, starting the impossible task of turning onto my back while he refused to let go of his hold on me.

“Coffee.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the playful groan he released in response. He clearly agreed.

“And they say the perfect woman doesn’t exist.”

It didn’t mean anything, I warned my heart as it began to race. It’s a joke.

“Well, I didn’t for the first ten years of your life. But don’t worry, Dr. Reid. You have me now.” This brag, paired well with the reminder of how different our current lives were, earned me my release from his embrace. I was sad to lose it, but scared of the effect it had on me.

“Your humility is my favorite part,” he said in jest as he watched me squirm out from under his arm. I stuck out my tongue, and he spoke again.

“Wait, never mind. I forgot about that part. That’s my favorite part.”

My face turned red as I sucked it back in, pouting and climbing out of the bed. Grateful that I still had on my negligee, I stopped to pick up his clothes, tossing them onto the bed.

“Come on, lazy bones. I don’t know how you like your coffee.”

He just smiled, that gentle yet goofy look that told me he was enjoying himself. I didn’t stay to watch him get dressed, deciding he deserved his privacy, despite the fact that I had shoved his cock down my throat the night before.

When he got to the kitchen, the pot was already on. I was leaning forward against the counter, half asleep on my propped up hand.

He didn’t take a seat at the table, instead positioning himself directly behind me and wrapping an arm around my chest. This man just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. But I wasn’t complaining.

He snuck a hand beneath the front of my negligee, gently kneading my breast and continuing where he had left off on my neck.

“What did I do to deserve all this attention now, Dr. Reid?” It was a serious question. I was just standing here. I had just woken up. I hadn’t even cleaned my face.

“Nothing. You just exist.”

I both chuckled and scoffed at the answer. The noises quickly shifted as he suckled gently on the side of my neck, and his fingers began to tweak my nipple. A moan was ripped from the back of my throat as I jutted my hips backwards against him.

“God, when you react like that I can’t help but think you want me to fuck you over this counter.”

He was right. I did. After all, men weren’t the only ones who had to deal with illicit thoughts in the morning.

“Please,” I invited his offer, moving my arms so I could brace myself against the ceramic.

“Only because you asked nicely.” He withdrew from my neck. I heard the familiar crumple of foil and smiled at the anticipation.

Soon enough, his fingers were trailing up my inner thighs, quickly encountering my very wet center, still affected by the night before.

Upon realizing I didn’t need any preparation, he skipped it entirely. Slowly and with purpose, he slipped inside of me. I let out another loud moan as he filled my sore center.

“Fuck,” I heard him mutter under his breath. I loved to know he couldn’t entirely control himself with me. I wanted to know how I made him feel.

This was unlike the other times. There was no battle for dominance; I submitted to him immediately and freely. He was not rushed or driven by high emotions.

Instead, his thrusts were slow, deep, and intimate. One of his hands returned to my chest, paying special attention to the breast that had been ignored before.

I leaned forward into his hand, my back arching to provide him with whatever relief he was looking for inside me. I panted out his name as my own version of a Sunday morning prayer.

It went on like that for awhile as he took his time with me. Like he was memorizing each nook and crevice he could reach. My legs were beginning to shake from his intrusion and also from my impending orgasm.

“Spencer…” I whispered his name differently this time, and his hands withdrew. I whimpered at the loss. But my disappointment was short lived, as his hand found its way down to where our bodies met. I gasped at the contact.

“What, (y/n)?” He asked with the utmost concern, beginning to make soft circles around my clit while he continued to fuck me from behind.

“I-I’m going to…” I couldn’t finish my sentence, collapsing forward as the stimulation became too much to bare.

As it usually did, his other hand ran through my hair, clutching it tightly before pulling me back up.

“Then do it.” His statement was a demand, but also its own beg. He wanted to feel me finish before him. I couldn’t fight it even if I wanted to. The way he commanded control of my body was a force that could not be ignored.

The ever tightening coil inside of me snapped, causing twitches and spasms to rack my body. My mouth tried to call his name, but my voice didn’t come out.

I tried to grip the ceramic when he began to pick up his pace, fucking me harder as my orgasm went on. I knew how much he loved to feel me come undone from the inside.

But this time he held on, continuing his brutal pace until even after I had devolved into a panting, dripping mess underneath him.

My soft mewls from the sensation of being fucked through peaked bliss were still not enough.

“What do you want, little girl?” He growled in my ear as he leaned forward, somehow thrusting harder. Another moan was bubbling up my throat as my feet left the ground with each impact.

“I want… I want you to cum. Inside me.” It was a beg laced with pants and high pitched whines. It was what he wanted to hear.

He grabbed one of my hands, guiding it to my lower abdomen and holding it there. I didn’t realize why until the next thrust, when I felt a bump form as he moved within me. I hadn’t even considered how deep within me he was. He was showing me how much of me belonged to him.

I already knew.

With a few more rough, deep thrusts, he had buried himself inside of me, and I could feel it against my hand. From within me I could feel his member spilling its contents into the condom. I remembered my question about children. I remembered his answer.

That beautiful, sneaky bastard was imagining what it would be like to make me pregnant, whether or not he would admit it. I _had_ put the thought in his mind. I just wasn’t expecting it to have this kind of effect on him. I was more turned on by that than I’d like to admit. After all, I would do anything for him.

He didn’t say anything, releasing my hair and pulling out of me, leaving me to prop myself up on the counter the best I could.

At some point in the middle of this, the coffee pot had finished. There were worse ways to pass the time.

Spencer was gone when I turned around. I figured he had gone to the bathroom to clean up, and I tried not to think anything of it.

I poured two cups of coffee and pulled out the cream and sugar. He came back with his phone, reading through messages from the past hours he spent with me.

He sat down at the table when he saw me bringing everything over. I watched him prepare his drink, immediately downing some of the contents despite its temperature.

“Good lord, do you even have feeling in your throat?” I couldn’t help but asking, laughing as I continued to stir my cup.

“Interesting you would be the one to ask me that. After last night, I wondered the same about you.” Touché.

“Did you get any interesting messages? Is the ever busy Special Agent Dr. Reid going to be whisked away from me without a proper goodbye again?” The words were laced with only a little bit of bitterness. He ignored it.

“I don’t know if I would classify our goodbye last time as improper. At least, not in the sense you’re using the term.” He was avoiding an answer. I figured he had to go. Or, well, he wanted to. That’s fine, I told myself. He can go.

I just don’t want him to.

I watched him, the way he continued to nurse his drink with one hand and look at his phone with the other. I tried to suppress the hearts forming in my eyes.

“When will I get to see you again?” I asked, my tone full of trepidation.

“I’m not sure,” was his honest answer, given without ever looking up at me.

“We should do something fun.” That made him look up, a sly grin forming on his face.

“Not like that, you perverted old man,” I laughed. He raised his eyebrows, choosing not to reply to my taunt.

“As much fun as we have in bedrooms, I don’t know much about you. I’d like to change that.”

He watched me carefully now, his eyes shifting away as he began to overthink it. I could see the cogs of paranoia turning in his mind.

“As friends, Spencer.” I reminded with a gentle smile. “Let’s do something fun. As friends.”

The reserved half smile he gave would be good enough for me.

“Sure.” He conceded, which filled me with a bubbly happiness I tried (and failed) to conceal.

“I do have to go now, though. If for no other reason than wanting to change.” An understandable concern. I was fine with him leaving if I knew I would see him again this time.

But still, something about him leaving so soon hurt a deeper part of me. Was this that dysphoria he was talking about?

I nodded, leaving my coffee on the table as I took his already empty cup. He stood up, waiting for me to return before the both of us walked over to the door.

Something about his hesitation resonated in me. My puppy dog eyes were out in full force as I stared up at him, unable to smile as he left.

“I’ll see you again soon. As soon as I can.” I wanted to believe him, but I hated that I didn’t know when that would be.

He reached a hand down, brushing loose hairs from my face.

“Don’t look so sad,” he instructed. “It makes it hard to leave.”

My chest swelled with anxiety and adoration. I wasn’t sure how to combat it. I hugged myself with one arm, and Spencer shook his head with a laugh.

“Still not following directions.”

He didn’t seem to mind all that much, though, as he leaned forward, cupping my face in his hand. Our lips pressed against each other with a tenderness that made my head spin.

We kissed each other in a way that was much too romantic. When he pulled away, he stared into my eyes for a second too long. And when he waved goodbye and walked out of my door, I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind.

**Friends don’t do this.**


	4. Chapter Four

When I was younger, I hated museums like this. The crackling, barely coherent ramblings of a stranger through a loudspeaker had never been my idea of fun. 

In fact, I’d been to this exact museum many times before. But this time was a little different. This time, I was enthralled with the objects on the other side of the glass.

With wide eyes and childlike wonder revived, I was hanging on every word out of Spencer’s mouth.

I knew the guy was probably a genius, but I had no idea how much of a genius he was. He looked like a hilarious mix of proud and embarrassed when he finally admitted his IQ. Meanwhile, I just admitted that I had no fuckin’ clue what my IQ was.

He didn’t seem to mind.

In a way, I thought it was strange when he told me he wanted to bring me here. After all, I had told him I wanted to learn more about him. I figured a museum would teach me about everything else, not him.

But seeing him in this environment told me more about him than I ever could have imagined. I learned about his avid love for the most trivial facts, the way his inflection changed when he got excited, and that despite reading probably hundreds of thousands of books, his hunger for knowledge was still very much alive and well.

Most of all, I learned that Spencer Reid was unlike any man I’d ever seen before.

This was a bad idea.

Because when we finally made our way out of the final exhibit, I didn’t want to leave. Not even close. If you told my mother I spent several hours in a museum and didn’t want to leave, she’d never believe you.

“Hey, so…” I started, pausing outside the gift shop on our way out. “It’s almost 5. Did you want to grab dinner before we head back? I have worked up _quite_ the appetite listening to you for the past 4 hours.”

“Has it really been that long?” He asked incredulously, pulling his sleeve up to look at his watch. I tried very hard, and failed, to suppress a giggle. 

“I’m honestly surprised you still have spit left in your mouth,” I joked, swaying closer to him, almost enough to touch him. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” He replied, a slight pout forming on his face. It wasn’t often that he was the one who looked so forlorn. 

“Come on, I’m joking!” I laughed, slipping my arm around his, pulling him closer to me. He glanced down at me in surprise, staring at my chest that was now fully pressed against his arm. Although the way he looked at me now was nothing compared to the response he had given after I showed up in a pleated skirt that better belonged on a Catholic schoolgirl. But I mean, I used to come here on school trips. It was only fair.

“I love listening to you talk, Spencer. You know that.” The speed with which he looked away when I finished talking was enough to tell me that I had said the wrong thing. His goofy, playful demeanor vanished so quickly, I almost got whiplash. 

He didn’t remove his arm, instead clearing his throat and pulling out a brochure from his pocket to look at nearby places to eat. A bit reserved, he asked if I was interested in one of the closer casual restaurants, to which I agreed. At that point, I removed myself from his side, surprised to see the way his body immediately relaxed. 

I wanted to believe he just didn’t like to be touched, which I was certain was true, but he was being different with me. After all, we’d touched a lot more than this in public before, and we’d known each other a lot less! 

But of course, that was probably why. The closer we got, the farther away he felt. 

The walk to the restaurant was slightly awkward, so after a moment I decided to break the silence. “You said you grew up in Vegas, right?" 

"Yeah, until I moved to go to school.” He explained casually, looking around at the surroundings of the D.C. crowds winding down.

At least I was finally learning more things about him! “Where did you go?“ 

“Caltech.” He was keeping his answers short, but I feel like he might still be a little embarrassed at my little jab at the museum. That was fine, I knew ways to make him talk.

I clasped my hands behind me as I walked by his side, still tempted to touch him somehow. I knew that was ill advised, though. “Was it hard being away from your family? That’s a few hours away, isn’t it?”

He laughed awkwardly, a sure sign that I’d forgotten that him and I come from different worlds. “Well, I was 14, so… My mom was kind of legally obligated to follow me." 

God, he was so cute. I laughed along with him, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as we walked up to the restaurant.

“Right, sorry, forgot about the genius thing for a minute. Don’t know how." 

The smile he returned was genuine, which helped my guilt for bothering him yet again. But in my defense, it was easy to do when he was a literal genius and I was barely scraping by half the time.

As we were seated in a booth near the back of the restaurant, I offered him the booth with a view of the door. I figured he would want it. He gave me a strange side glance at my assumption, like I was hiding something from him that would grant me the knowledge that it was better to be able to see the door.

I didn’t want to talk about that, though. Instead, I asked, “Do you like it here? In Virginia?" 

He nodded as he flipped open the menu, speaking almost scripted answers absentmindedly, “I do, but mostly because it’s been so long that everyone I know is here." 

I had already been here before, so I didn’t bother looking at the menu. He had already read it within seconds, naturally. When he made eye contact again, I spoke through my thoughts. “You said you’re a profiler for the…" 

"Behavioral Analysis Unit." His tone was a mix of pride and nerves, which immediately made me nervous.

"I haven’t looked it up yet because I’m scared about what I might find. What do you guys do, exactly?" The server brought us drinks just in time to pause his answer, which he seemed to appreciate. Wow, must be a hard job to explain…

Spencer lowered his voice like he usually did when he talked about work. “We profile the behavior of serial killers. Sometimes for research, but mostly to assist local police in catching them." 

"Oh…” I started, stopping mid-sip of my drink. That was a lot to take in at once. “So… yeah, I’m glad I didn’t google it.”

He scrunched his mouth in that unsure way, like he wanted to explain to me how he really felt about his job. Something in the bags under his eyes told me he hasn’t talked about this in a long time. At least, not like he should. But he didn’t talk about it. He looked away, opting to say nothing at all.

“Doesn’t it get to you?” I pushed, trying to offer him the platform to talk about the thing that no doubt consumes most of his life.

“Does what get to me?” His voice sounded so far away.

“Spencer, when I met you, you were whisked away at the crack of dawn to go talk about serial killers. On a weekend. The second time you showed up at my place after clearly not having slept, I’m guessing straight from work…” His eyes narrowed as I spoke, like I was talking from a tightrope that I could plummet off any second. He seemed scared that I would speak something into existence he wasn’t ready to face himself.

“You’re surrounded by evil all the time. You’re responsible for learning, recognizing, and manipulating _evil_. That can’t be easy.”

Spencer’s eyes were glazed over in a way I can’t describe. He seemed defensive, steeled, and absolutely _terrified_. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes, staring down at the menu in front of him as he shrugged, “I guess that’s one way to look at it. We also get to see a lot of good." 

"Yeah…” I nodded solemnly, recognizing the behavior from my own experience. He was downplaying his own trauma, as if he could will it away. Like it would stop existing if he could convince himself it wasn’t that bad at all. I wonder what had happened to him on the job so far.

I couldn’t stop myself, needing to see how he reacted when I continued, “But which do you see more of?" 

I never got my answer. The server once again saved him from a conversation that got away from him. The presence of a third, impartial person shifted the mood back to what it was in the museum. I wondered how much was an act, both back then and now.

Deciding it best not to dwell on the thought, I tried to forget about the darkness brewing in those coffee colored eyes. Once our orders were in, he turned his attention to the cocktail menu still laying in the middle of the table with a smile.

"I’m almost surprised you didn’t try to order alcohol,” he said half-jokingly. 

I leaned forward on the table, bringing a hand up to my mouth and whispering, “I heard there might be an undercover fed here, so, never can be too safe." The bubbly, childish laugh that followed renewed my faith in him. He had that kind of infectious laugh that made you forget that evil existed at all. Once our ruckus had died down, he looked at me with the softness that had drawn me to him in the first place.

"You’re cute.” 

When the words registered in my mind, I couldn’t believe I had heard them, and the way his expression changed shortly after the words left his mouth told me he hadn’t meant to say them. But their effect on me was not stifled by that momentary lapse in judgment.

Was it getting hot in here? Apparently not for Spencer, who had yet another cup of coffee in front of him. I cleared my throat, trying to not look like a schoolgirl whose crush had just checked ‘yes’ on a note asking if he liked me. Pointing to the mug in front of him, I joked, “How do you _sleep_?”

“Honestly? I usually don’t." There was the goofy overly literal dork I wanted to see more of.

"I can think of one way to wear you out,” I suggested, lifting my leg to press the top of my foot against his leg under the booth. He raised his eyebrows, giving a simple glance down to acknowledge the contact. Then his eyes were back on me, staring deeply into my eyes with a hunger that would not be satisfied by whatever dish they brought out to us.

"I can think of several." 

Humming cheerfully, I continued to run my foot up and down his leg, my cheeks flushing with my growing desire. I had spent the whole day with this man, and somehow now was the first time I thought about sleeping with him.

"It’s too bad we can’t,” I pouted. “My roommate is back in town. Not sure she’d appreciate all the noise.” This time as my foot drew up his leg, he shifted in his seat so that his legs moved closer to me, extending the contact.

“Not to mention, I don’t think you’d like to deal with several 20-year-olds.” The way he behaved whenever I pointed out my age was endlessly entertaining. This time, though, he seemed significantly less bothered.

“One is already borderline for me,” he teased back. 

I gasped, clutching at my chest as I batted my eyelashes just dramatically enough to showcase my pride. “You flatter me, Dr. Reid." 

He almost choked on his coffee as he stifled a chuckle, putting it down as he shook his head. "Only you would take that as a compliment." 

Recognizing this repartee as the foreplay it had always accompanied, I leaned forward on my elbows towards him. He immediately mirrored the movement, putting our faces much closer to each other than they’d been all day.

"What can I say? I enjoy being a challenge." 

“Yes, you do." He didn’t even think about it, responding almost instantaneously, suggesting once more that he could actually read my mind.

“How are you so good at that?” I kept the question vague on purpose. He didn’t fall for it.

“I’m good at a lot of things. Which are you referring to?” What a cocky bastard. A very handsome, ridiculously sexy, dork of a bastard.

But don’t worry, he’s not the only one at this table that knows how to get someone hot and bothered. “Your humility is my favorite part, Dr. Reid.” I stuck my tongue out at the end of the sentiment, a cheeky grin that reflected on him just as quickly.

“Quoting me? That’s bold.”

Deciding it had been too long since I had touched him, I lifted my hand to press a single finger against his chest. “You aren’t the only person with a good memory.”

He leaned back at this point, backing away from my finger and the heated exchange. “I don’t have a good memory. I have an _eidetic_ memory.”

That’s right, he had been very proud of that fact earlier when I asked him why the hell he was able to list off every single word from a museum display we had seen an hour earlier. I’d asked him if it was the same as a photographic memory, and he’d gone on a rant about the pejorative connotations of the term. I wasn’t going to go down that rabbit hole again today.

Instead, I took the same hand that had touched him moments before, curling all but one finger into a fist.

“So you’ll be able to remember this forever?” I taunted as I held up my middle finger. He nodded in response, admitting defeat.

“I’ll just file that away with the most important memories, like birthdays and the works of Arthur Conan Doyle.”

I was not brave enough to tell him I had no idea who that was, but I was sure I’d learn one day. That one, I thought, was safe to google. While he filed away my crude gesture, I filed away yet another fun fact to surprise him with later.

“You are, by far, the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” I implored, to which he shot back, “I could say the same about you. And I regularly talk to serial killers.”

Touché, Dr. Reid.

“I’m flattered,” was the last word I got in edgewise before our food arrived. The rest of our time in the restaurant went very similarly, with teasing comments that built the sexual tension that was already too big for this tiny room.

Our legs never stopped touching throughout the entire meal. Maybe that’s why when it was finally time to leave, we both felt a strange mixture of excited and sad. After all, once we were no longer behind the booth, it was back to pretending like we weren’t constantly trying not to pounce on the other.

The walk to the metro was long and just as tense. At one point I swayed closer to him than I intended, our sides brushing up against one another. He didn’t move away. I couldn’t believe something so minuscule could made me so happy.

The metro was more crowded than I anticipated. The fact that the station is underground was usually enough to make me feel a little claustrophobic, but the number of people bustling around me felt especially overwhelming. Ugh, maybe I shouldn’t have worn a skirt today. Never know when there is a pervert hanging around.

Spencer’s touch woke me from my reverie. His arm had wrapped around my lower back with such unassuming delicacy, I hardly registered it at first. He was looking down at me with concern covering his features as he asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, there’s a lot of people here.” I had one hand holding my skirt down against my leg, the other crossed over my chest. “Makes me nervous,” I further explained.

“Can I help?” Even though he was offering, I could tell the crowds bothered him just as much. Thankfully, his presence was enough for me.

“You already did.”

There was something so calming about his presence that was hard to explain. It wasn’t his ability to physically protect me, considering he didn’t even have his weapon with him most of the time I was with him. It wasn’t his emotional availability (or lack thereof). It’s like he just exuded some chemical that made me docile. It was hard to explain.

I just liked him, okay?

When our train pulled in it was relatively crowded, but we managed to grab two seats near the back of a car. I sighed in relief as I plopped down into the plastic chair, happy to be able to rest my legs.

With Spencer on the aisle seat and us on our way back to Franconia Springfield Station, I let myself relax. My head dropped down onto his shoulder without much thought, my entire body slumping over with it.

“How am I supposed to stay awake for this when you’re so comfy?” I mumbled, looking down at the hem of my pleated skirt as I fiddled with it.

“That certainly sounds like quite the predicament,” he said in what I assume was jest. He sat up, bumping my head off his shoulder for a moment. I interpreted it to be a subtle way of telling me not to do it, but once he had shrugged off his cardigan, he looked at me like he was confused I hadn’t resumed the position.

Armed with a simper, I cuddled up even closer this time, wrapping my arms around his and resting my cheek against his shoulder. I wasn’t sure why he had gotten so open to touch, but I wasn’t going to complain!

He didn’t say anything when he draped his cardigan over my lap, covering my knees peeking out from under my skirt. A nice gesture, I thought as my body instinctively gravitated towards him. It wasn’t until I closed my eyes that the pieces started to come together.

I was on the metro, in a skirt, with Spencer Reid’s hand slowly but surely inching up my thigh.

My eyes shot open, and I tensed my grip around his arm. It was the only thing I did to betray my otherwise composed and unassuming position.

His breath was hot on my ear as he leaned over to me and began to whisper. “Do you know the idea that people fall asleep after sex is less true for women than men? Many speculate it’s because women are just neglected in bed, but that’s not quite it.”

I didn’t dare respond, hardly trusting myself to breathe as his hand continued to move closer to me.

“Both sexes do release the same chemicals during orgasm. Oxytocin to stimulate smooth muscle contraction and initiate the need to bond, prolactin to relieve arousal and signal satiation, and the leftover gamma aminobutyric acid, dopamine, and serotonin…”

How did he make this sound sexy?

“Still, women are less likely to fall asleep. Sure, they typically exert less physical energy during sex, but what about those women like you with a penchant for going for a ride?” A woozy, lovesick smile spread across my face at the reference to our first encounter.

“Those women might still stay awake for longer and may actually be more invigorated after reaching climax. And it’s all thanks to their naturally lessened refractory period.”

I nodded dumbly, gasping lightly once I felt his fingers make contact through the flimsy cotton of my underwear.

“Which might sound like a curse. But it’s not. It means that those lucky women can reach multiple orgasms in succession. Some partners just aren’t willing to put in that kind of effort,” he continued, tracing a finger up and down my folds through the fabric. “But I’m not one of them.”

His words were strong, and I buried my face into his shoulder, trying not to alert the entire car what was happening underneath his cardigan.

“I would much rather watch you come undone. Again, and _again_ , and _again_. I want to make sure that when I’m done with you, you can’t keep your eyes open.”

My breath was getting quicker, and I let out a small squeak against his shirt as he pressed down on the bundle of nerves at my center, drawing circles around it.

“That being said, if you need something to keep you awake, I do have a solution. But if you make a single noise, I will stop.”

This time I had to bite down hard on my bottom lip to prevent any noise from slipping out. My legs were wavering between opening and closing as I tried to keep them apart. I could feel how damp I was getting. My hips were moving with a mind of their own, rocking toward his hand. It took all of my concentration not to give us away.

I choked on my breath as a sly finger snuck into the side of my underwear, allowing entrance to the others that followed.

“Shhh,” he hushed, pressing a soft kiss on the top of my head. Underneath my skirt, though, he was much less chaste. Slipping two fingers into my heat, I could have sworn I heard him laugh from above me.

I didn’t dare look at him, nervous that the moment I did, I would lose all control.

“I had no idea it would be so easy to get you to follow directions. Are you that worried you might get caught?”

He could feel my heartbeat against his arm. He must have. Because I was suffocating against his arm, my hands clenching around him like he was the only lifeline in an ocean of pleasure.

“Imagine what they would think if they knew what you let me do to you. What you _beg_ me to do to you.”

My legs were beginning to tremble around him as he stroked me from the inside. All I could feel was him. His hands, his breath, his words.

“Is that why you wore this skirt? A naughty little schoolgirl fantasizing about an older man touching you like this?”

He quickened the pace of thrusting into me, his words getting more insistent as the train was almost empty now, closing in on our stop.

“Is it everything you thought it would be? No. Can’t be. You wish there was _something else_ of mine in between your legs.”

I don’t know how, but my climax snuck up on me, smashing into me like a wave crashing onto the shore. I gasped for breath against his arm, and he thankfully took mercy on me. Despite definitely making a noise, he continued his motions, palming at the crest of my folds to give me one last boost of stimulation.

I shook around him, my thighs tightening onto his arm as I finally found release. I could hear the announcement calling for our station, but it felt worlds away. Still, Spencer pulled his hand out from underneath our pile of clothes, wiping the evidence of our escapade against the inside of my skirt before also removing his arm from underneath my tight grip.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” I puffed, relaxing all my muscles at once as I tried to retain control over my pulse. I could barely think straight.

“You’re welcome,” he beamed, as if he hadn’t just gone full dominant as he finger fucked me on the metro. How the hell was I supposed to get up and walk off like nothing happened?

Somehow, I managed, standing with wobbly legs and a flustered state of mind. He linked his arm with mine, leading me off the car and into the station. I clung to the assistance; grateful he was once again taking pity on me.

However, I felt like it wouldn’t last long. Once we got to his car, he helped me in before climbing into the driver’s seat. It was silent for a moment, like he wanted me to ask him a question that I wasn’t willing to ask. I didn’t want the night to be over, but if he asked me if I was ready to go home, I’d have to say yes. After all, it wasn’t proper form to invite myself to his apartment. Especially with how weird he gets whenever I get close to him.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Oh, so the pity was gone, I guessed. I didn’t think before I spoke, immediately responding, “Not unless it’s yours.”

The silence was back. Oops.

I realized that I had spoken out loud at the same time he delivered his response; I was going to stop him, but he was too quick.

“My place it is, then.”

I couldn’t help but smile, my cheeks turning a light shade of pink as I asked quietly, like my volume might change his mind, “Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

I didn’t have an answer. We didn’t talk for a moment, enjoying the content silence as I texted my roommate to tell her that I was going to be late home, if I came at all. I was hoping for the latter. Once that was sent off, I returned my gaze to the man paying almost full attention to the road.

“You know, I have to get you back for what you did back there.”

He smirked, not breaking away from the road as he replied, “I did you a favor.”

“A cruel favor,” I whined, turning in my chair as I buckled my seatbelt so I could get closer to him.

“No such thing,” he corrected, although I think we both knew there very well could be such a thing. 

“Uh-huh.” I watched him for a moment, trying to decide the best way to get back at him. I could always try the most relevant payback…

He didn’t even notice my hand reaching out until it was already sliding up his thigh at a rapid pace.

“What are you doing?” He asked, as if it weren’t already obvious.

“Getting you back,” I snickered as I finally made it up his leg, palming the quickly forming erection under his pants.

“I’m driving!” His voice was so high pitched it was heartwarming. It was like our roles had switched, even just for a second.

“I’m not stopping you from driving!”

Obviously trying to compose himself, he grabbed my wrist and held it in the air and out of reach.

“Unless you want to crash this car, you’d better wait until we get back to my place.” It was a valid warning, but not one I wanted to hear.

I sighed, “Spoil sport.”

“At least you’re alive!” He retorted. It was back to the sexual tension from before in the restaurant. I wanted to touch him, and I was guessing based on the visible tent in his pants, he wanted me. Well, I wasn’t allowed to touch him, so that left one person.

“… What are you doing?”

It was a valid question this time. He had glanced over to see my hand traveling up my own skirt as I parted my legs just enough to maneuver underneath my underwear.

“Nothing,” I hummed, now looking at him with half-lidded eyes as I rocked forward onto my hand. 

“That’s cruel.” He sounded so devastated to see that I was doing what he couldn’t, despite the fact he had his hand in this exact spot not that long ago.

My fingers dipped between my folds, collecting the remnants of the orgasm he had given me as I crooned, “What? You said I couldn’t touch you while you’re driving. I’m not touching you. You’re welcome.”

I opened my eyes just enough to see the way he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying not to look at me. Couldn’t drive distracted. That’s why I was touching myself and not him.

“Unless, of course, you do consider this part of me as your property. In which case, I’m not going to stop, anyway.” Rewarding myself with a soft moan, I played with myself to prolong the experience the best I could. It was hard when every couple of seconds he would look over at me. Fuck, I didn’t think I would find this that hot.

He was thoroughly unamused, which only egged me on, honestly. I didn’t care if I was being overdramatic as I touched myself, I wanted him to think about what he was missing. Which is why I didn’t stop myself from moaning this time, unlike on the train. Pants and gasps echoed throughout the car as I picked up my pace.

“I hope you’re ready for the consequences of this _very_ poorly thought out decision.” On the contrary, Spencer. I was thinking this very clearly through. I was thinking it so clearly I could picture his hands where mine were, among other parts of him.

Thinking about how to dig an even deeper hole for myself, I found the perfect mechanism.

“ _Mmm,_ _Professor Reid_ ,” I cried, recognizing that it would either infuriate him or bring him a great sense of pride. I was fine with either. I closed my eyes so I could better envision the fantasy that was actually just a memory. For now. With my eyes closed, I couldn’t tell much of what was going on outside of my touch, trying to ignore the man beside me as best as I could. I wanted him to suffer.

Spencer, however, had other plans. With both eyes still on the road, his hand had found its way to my legs, shooting up to join mine. He removed my hand, replacing it with his own.

There was no subtlety or warm up this time. Without any hesitation, he dipped a finger into my heat just to remove it and begin rubbing harsh circles over my clit. I couldn’t stop the yell that resulted, climaxing seconds later onto his hand.

As soon as the spasming stopped, he removed his hand, not speaking a word or even looking at me. I realized at this point that he had only finished me off because he didn’t want me to have the satisfaction of doing it myself. He was asserting that yes, in some sense, he viewed this as a part of his property.

I was oddly okay with that.

“Is the silent treatment my punishment?” I asked with a pout after a few moments of silence. He laughed bitterly back, finally looking at me for a moment before vaguely replying, “No. Your punishment will be much more fun for me.”

I had to admit the implication that the silent treatment wasn’t fun for him was flattering, at least. I was glad he enjoyed talking to me as much as I enjoyed listening to him talk.

But for now, I was sort of exhausted. Not in the way that would make me fall asleep, but in the I-just-had-two-orgasms-let-me-recoup way.

Even though we enjoyed talking, these moments were refreshing in their own way. The best kind of connections are the ones that can be maintained even in the quiet.

Despite it not being my punishment, Spencer remained fairly quiet the rest of the way home. I wondered if part of that was due to him brewing a plan for what would happen when we got there.

God, I hope so.

His building was what I expected, but I was really excited to see what it looked like on the inside. If I had to bet, there would be a lot of books and a stark lack of computers. As he opened the door into Apt #23, I was only a little surprised by what I saw. The warm green tones of his walls were complimented by the red accents, and my primary guess was proven correct.

“Whoa,” I started, mumbling under my breath, “It’s like a library.”

“You must go to some pretty small libraries, then.” I rolled my eyes, understanding he was trying to be humble. He failed pretty badly.

Spinning around on my heels to face him once I heard the door shut, I was not able to speak. Spencer’s movements were quick as he gripped tightly on my wrist, pulling me after him towards what I assume was the way to his bedroom.

Weirdly, I was still trying to take in my surroundings rather than focus on fucking him. I guess I had already experienced two orgasms today, whereas he had none. Oops. Guess I really was a spoiled brat. But seriously—I was in his apartment! I wanted to snoop, dammit!

No chance. He even made a point of shutting the door to his room. Something told me he would keep a close eye on me here. That was probably deserved, considering that within the first few hours of interacting with him I had answered a call from his boss. In my defense, it had been fucking hilarious.

He led me to stand in front of him, and out of instinct and habit, I moved forward to kiss him. I never made it to his lips, as he pushed me aside toward the bed. I laughed as I leaned over it, putting my hands down to flip up the back of my skirt.

“I’ve been bad, _Professor_ ,” I cooed, turning to glance back at him from the position I had happily assumed without being told. He had that dark fire in his eyes that usually came before a storm. He looked like he was ready to break me. I was ready to be broken.

“Are you going to teach me another biology lesson?”

When his hands touched me, they were as tender as ever. He caressed my hips where I had turned the skirt up, hooking his fingers around the waistband of the underwear underneath as he casually removed them.

“No, I’m afraid not.” He sounded delighted despite the words he spoke. “This will be a very different kind of lesson.”

 _Oh_ , I realized all at once.

“A lesson in discipline?” I inquired, swaying my hips underneath his hands, waiting for confirmation about what was going to happen.

The loss of his hand on one side caused anticipation to build. I could hear the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

It’s hard to tell which happened first. Instantaneously, his hand came down hard on the soft skin of my backside as he responded, “Yes.”

The adrenaline that coursed through my veins in response shook any feelings of fatigue I might have sustained throughout the day. I welcomed his body heat against my back as he leaned forward against me, his weight pressing me down into his bed.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“No!” I shouted back much too forcefully, gripping onto the sheets in front of me. “I deserve to be punished, _Professor Reid_.”

He withdrew from me and within seconds, brought his hand down on me again, this time striking the other side. The snapping sound of the contact was enough to elicit a response. I clamped my legs together and gave a soft mewl.

Appreciating my vocal response, the next two hits came in rapid succession. I could feel the warmth building in the skin, the breeze from the motions acting as a buffer for the delicious sting.

He roughly grabbed both cheeks in front of him, for no reason other than wanting to. I groaned at the sensation of the tender flesh being handled, which only led him to release one to smack it once more. He followed with the other, appreciating the balance required of this particular punishment.

I wasn’t going to stop him. I was happy to continue. But something told me that he was breaching the point of comfort in his own conscience. He was always so worried he would break me. I couldn’t say it wasn’t endearing.

That didn’t stop him from giving each side one more forceful blow, which earned him a mangled cry from deep in my chest.

His body was against mine again, one of his hands reaching around to tilt my head up, despite not being able to see him. I was beginning to think he just enjoyed manipulating my body at will. To see how far I would let him.

“I think you’re starting to get it, (y/n).”

“Yes.” I responded, not caring if it didn’t make much sense in response. Despite the fact he’d already finished me twice today, I somehow already wanted him again. Maybe it was the allure of finally being able to fuck him in his own bed, or maybe it was the desire to see him fall apart as a reminder that I’m not the only one desperate for the other’s touch.

So quickly he returned to the gentle, barely there traces along my skin. “Punishment looks good on you,” he praised. Something about the way he said it filled me with pride. 

“You look good on me, too, sir,” I slurred as he continued to draw feathery markings on the abused skin. He chuckled, finally moving up along my back. “Fuck me.” The words were more a beg. I wanted him and didn’t care how I got it. “Let me help you feel good.”

The hands that had inflicted pain moments ago were now gently massaging my shoulders through my top. I sighed, relaxing further into his touch. So easily I became so complacent.

“Something tells me you’re more interested in making yourself feel good,” he asserted (quite correctly). 

“Can’t we have both?”

His silence told me he was considering my words. I knew that he didn’t want to, since that would ruin the whole idea that this was a punishment in the first place. Then again, I didn’t think he was fully committed to that idea anyway.

Dragging his hands once more down the plane of my back, he stopped to grip my hips, shifting me backwards against him. 

“You’re lucky you look so fucking cute in that skirt,” he growled. I felt dizzy again already, drowning in the way his bed smelled like him.

“Mmm, I wore it just for you,” I admitted, rubbing myself gently against his crotch now pressing into my bottom. 

“Smart girl,” he responded. It felt like I was in a dream, just to be here with him like this. For a long time, I’d thought I’d never see him again, let alone be laying on his bed. I could hear him stripping behind me, and I peeked over my shoulder with a modest smile.

Time was not moving fast enough, I thought, but it was also moving too fast. Because as badly as I wanted him to ravish me, I was afraid what would happen when it was over. I couldn’t think about that right now, though.

Once he reached into his nightstand, I giggled with anticipation. He raised his eyebrows at me, unable to contain his own laughter. “Oh, you’re happy with yourself, huh?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

When he returned to me, his hands were still gentle as they pushed my skirt back up where it had fallen, revealing my body to him. I didn’t have to be able to see it to know that my arousal spread down my inner thighs. I had, after all, already had two orgasms before now thanks to the man behind me.

“I’m also pretty happy with you,” he whispered as he leaned over me. With no warning, he sheathed himself inside of me with one swift thrust. I whimpered at the feeling of him hitting against my reddened skin.

“We’ll see if you still feel like smiling after I’m done with you.”

It was the last thing he said before he began to ruthlessly pound into me. I grabbed hold of as much of the sheets as I could, unable to scream as loudly as I wanted to. In fact, I couldn’t make any noise at all.

My body seemed to have relented all control to him within seconds, not putting up a single battle. Although his grasp held me in place, I still attempted to cant my hips forward to allow him better access.

My chest and face were warm with friction from rubbing against the bed, my knuckles white from the force exerted to try and remain grounded here. Each movement seemed so purposeful, much like the way he thrashed at my skin with his hand.

“Fuck me,” were the first words I managed to string together. With one forceful thrust, he held me down on him as all the moans I couldn’t make previously came pouring out of me. I might actually cry from how overstimulated today was quickly becoming.

Seemingly reading my mind, Spencer pulled out of me entirely, leading me to attempt to stand on my tip toes. But he stopped me, using one hand to grab hold of my arm and flip me onto my back beneath him.

I hadn’t even realized I was still wearing basically all of my clothes. Still missing him between my legs, I began to pull my shirt over my head. He didn’t stop me, just watching while he playfully rubbed his arousal at my entrance.

“Please, _sir,_ ” I pleaded, finally able to use my legs. I wrapped them around his hips, pulling him closer to me.

“Just as impatient and needy as ever, (y/n).”

I chewed on my bottom lip, looking up at him with the puppy dog eyes that often worked on him so far. It must have worked again, because he was sinking back into me already. My arms spread out across the bed, holding onto whatever I could reach as he set another brutal pace.

Our bodies melding together in a chaotic fusion of skin and fluids, I let myself get lost in the bliss of Spencer Reid laying claim to my body. I threw my head back, my eyes clamped shut as one of his hands came up to caress one of my breasts through my lacy bra.

“With undergarments like this, I have to wonder if you planned this all, young lady,” he teased, no doubt referring to the matching underwear now discarded on the floor. I opened my eyes to meet his, and for a second I was left breathless at the sight of him pumping into me.

“Never a plan, sir. But always a pleasure.” How I managed to say anything at all is a miracle. A flirtatious sparkle in his eyes, he slowed down as he pressed, “Did you wear them for someone else, then?”

The way I arched my back caused him to push even further into me, and I had to pause to moan before I continued. “Are you jealous?”

His hips snapped forward, producing a simultaneously jolt of pain and pleasure. His voice was breathy as he tried to hold himself together while speaking, “Should I be?”

Our eye contact caused tension so powerful I was certain it was palpable. A devilish grin and a bit of a snicker was the provocation he needed to drive into me harder once again. I didn’t even try to suppress the noises he elicited from me, tightening my grip around him with my legs.

“Take me,” I whispered under my breath, almost hoping that he wouldn’t hear me. I couldn’t tell if he did, but his hand switched sides of my chest, and our faces grew closer together.

“I’m yours,” I continued to mumble. This time, it was his moan that filled the air in the room, and I had never felt so excited by one of his responses. I chased after the feeling, locking eyes with him as both his hands grabbed my hips to begin the race to the finish.

“I’m yours, Spencer.”

At the time, I didn’t stop to wonder if I could play this off as part of the fantasy. I mean, it _was_ part of my fantasy; the fantasy of being his, and him being mine. He didn’t object to my words this time, either. He had definitely heard me now.

I smiled, barely noticing he had placed his fingers back on my heat, swiping frantically at my clit until I lost all composure underneath him. My hips rocked at no apparent rhythm, distorted version of his name breaking through my mouth.

I hadn’t even come down yet when he rammed into me with full force, bottoming out once again. I felt his cock twitch inside of me, followed by my muscles milking everything out of him they could.

The view of his satisfied face through my lust-filled daze was angelic. It appeared that he saw the same in me, but I couldn’t be sure. Just as quickly as the moment had come, it had passed, his arms giving in to his weight as he collapsed onto my chest.

His hair tickled my collarbones, and I laughed at how incredibly out of shape he was. Didn’t he say he goes out in the field? I guess the resident dork didn’t need to be totally ripped. And hey, he was strong enough to treat me like a ragdoll, so who was I to judge?

“Tired?” I asked, taking a shaky hand to his head, playing with the soft brown curls damp from sweat.

“You aren’t?” His words smothered against my skin.

“I am fucking _exhausted_.”

He laughed this time, too, clearly pleased that he was able to thoroughly wear me out. When he moved to leave me, I dropped my legs. I was surprised I could hold any position at this point, honestly. He fixed his hair that had fallen in his eyes first, and I smiled at the peculiar priority. It was cute, though.

“Do you have to take me home?” I tried not to let the disappointment bleed into my voice, but it did. He tried not to notice. He didn’t answer as he cleaned himself up, and I sat up to look at him (once the world stopped spinning, anyway).

“No.”

The butterflies spiraled out of control, spreading through every inch of my soul. I must have been beaming, because he looked so very nervous.

“Thanks.” 

His response came in the form of an unsure smile, followed by a genuine appreciation. Did he know how transparent he was? Unlikely.

I excused myself to clean up before bed (taking a moment to rub my bottom with aloe from under the cabinet), only to realize that I had basically nothing clean to wear. I rolled my eyes at the situation, wondering how many red flags it would set off for me to ask Spencer for some of his clothes. I guess I could just be naked. He seemed to like me that way.

I padded back into the room, expecting him to be waiting up for me. He wasn’t. Spencer had passed out on the bed before he even had a chance to get under the covers. I stood at the door for a moment, trying to appreciate the value of this quiet moment while I still could.

I stripped off my clothes as quiet as possible, careful not to wake him. However, that also meant I couldn’t climb under the covers, either. It isn’t exactly snooping if I’m looking for something innocent, right? Like pants I can wear?

Glancing at the dresser, I almost convinced myself it wouldn’t be an invasion of privacy to open it. Luckily, I didn’t have to. Directly next to it was a hamper of clean, folded laundry, with a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt on top. While disappointed that I had lost my excuse, I was grateful I had stripped myself of the choice.

He deserved better than me trying to pry into his life like that. I knew that.

Slipping into his clothes, I stopped to hug myself in the soft fabric. With him asleep, I felt comfortable taking a moment to revel in the position he’d allowed me to exist in. I was in his apartment, in his clothes, and I would soon be back in his arms.

For now. 

I chased the inevitable end out of my thoughts, slinking onto the bed and shimmying over to him. This time I faced him, my hands pressing softly against his chest to feel his heart happily working under my touch.

His eyes fluttered open for a second, just long enough to see the wonder in my own. A smile crept along his cheeks, and he wrapped a lazy arm around my waist. Did he notice the fact that I was wearing his clothes? Did he even realize this was real, or was he lost in a dream world?

“I’m happy,” he muttered in hushed tones. My heart almost stopped, and I peeked up at him, inching up so I could better see his face. His breathing evened back out as I felt the way he relaxed, quickly retreating back to the comfortable embrace of sleep.

“About what?” I whispered back, our legs twining together. I held my breath as I waited for his response, although I don’t think I could ever be prepared for what followed.

“That you’re mine.”

**… What?**


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader (accidentally) blows off a text from Spencer for another guy. She spends the night at his place, and Spencer takes her for a second date and things get emotional that night.

It was Saturday night and I was laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling of my friend’s apartment as if I could manipulate myself into believing it was Spencer’s. But no. He was out of town this weekend.

He’d been gone for over two weeks and it was _killing_ me. The last time I saw him was the morning after our first “date.”

Spencer got a restful night of sleep that night. I did not. I was up for hours, playing his words through my head on loop, trying to figure out what the fuck had happened.

It didn’t amount to anything though. He hadn’t remembered. The next morning I’d told him that he had been mumbling in his sleep, and he asked me if he’d said anything embarrassing. I told him no. He hadn’t pressed any further, just stating that he was probably dreaming.

Just like that, my heart returned to the broken, hurting mess it had been before. It wasn’t his fault, though. I was the one who set myself up for failure.

“Hey, (y/n), get your lazy ass up so I can sit down.” I turned to my friend standing in front of me, and groaned as I came face to face with his crotch.

“Dude, I don’t want any of that in my face,” I laughed, “back up or I’ll punch you in the dick.” He took a step back, making way for me to sit up and scoot over to give him room beside me on the couch.

“Some women would do anything to have that privilege,” he _absolutely_ lied.

“Who are these women?” I said through a laugh, “And how can I help them avoid this tragic fate?”

He smiled back, used to me rebuffing all of his advances. We had known each other for what felt like forever, but he still tried.

Once I had made some space for him, he sat as close as possible to me, putting his arm behind me on the couch. I leaned forward, looking at the arm that was uncomfortably familiar. I narrowed my eyes. “There are three whole couches in this room and you pick the seat directly next to me?”

“You’re warm and it’s 50 degrees in here,” he joked, lifting his other hand to poke me on the nose. I recoiled in disgust, grabbing the pillow beside me and hitting him in the face with it. “Turn up the heat or grab a blanket, jackass. I’m not giving you my precious body heat.”

He gave up, lifting his hands in defeat and scooting further away from me. I watched him for a second until he got far enough away, and then returned my attention to my phone, which I had been _religiously_ checking.

“What are you looking at?”

I sighed. “My friend. He’s supposed to have landed a couple hours ago…” I slumped over after seeing I had no new messages, resting my elbow on my knee and endlessly scrolling through our previous conversations.

“Is that the cop? Your _boyfriend_?” He teased, and I rolled my eyes. 

“He’s not a cop. And he’s not my boyfriend.” I grumbled the second part half under my breath, still thinking about what Spencer had said that night.

“He carries a gun and can arrest people. He’s a cop.” 

At least this asshole wasn’t focusing on that part. I chuckled a bit as I pictured how Spencer would respond if someone called him a cop to his face. They would learn so much about government job descriptions.

“Whatever. Yeah, it’s Spencer. I was hoping he’d want to see me.” I turned the volume on my phone before setting it down, continuing to eye the screen until it went dark.

“It’s not like you to chase after a dude.”

He was right - It wasn’t. But Spencer wasn’t like other guys. And while it was true that Spencer was ten years older than me, I could tell that age wasn’t the only thing setting him apart from others.

“I’m not _chasing_ him. We like spending time with each other.” I sat up straighter, a hand to my chest in feigned pride, “I’m a very interesting person.”

Then he responded with the last question I wanted to hear, consider, or even think about considering right now. “So why isn’t he your boyfriend, then?”

I didn’t have an answer, inspecting the cuticles on my nail like they were suddenly fascinating. The man to my right was twisting his body as he settled into the seat, keeping his chest open to me in some display of fragile masculinity.

“Is he like, ashamed of you or something?”

My eyes squinted into an unamused glare. “No…” I wanted it to sound more certain than it did. As it stands, it sounded downright pathetic. Especially compared to my friend’s much more confident reply.

“So what’s his excuse?”

I sighed, pulling my legs up on the couch, suddenly unable to get comfortable. Maybe because I was being fucking interrogated.

“He doesn’t need an excuse. We both agreed it’s better to just be friends.”

He was moving closer to me again, and I didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop. Not like he would listen anyway. “You deserve better than that, (y/n).”

He was doing that thing where he talked soft and acted like it was meaningful. But really, I knew that he liked the thought of me more than who I actually was.

“Yeah, right. With who? You?” I droned, wishing that my words could actually be laced with venom. Maybe then he’d leave me alone.

“I mean I’m not gonna turn you down if you’re offering.” At least he kept things light. I laughed, lifting his arm off my shoulders as he set it back down before standing up.

“Piss off. I’m running down to the basement. You want anything?” I called from halfway to the door. “Just for you to come back quick,” was his immediate, not-at-all charming reply. 

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

It wasn’t until I was already on my way back up after grabbing a blanket and a drink that I realized I didn’t know where my phone was. Oh, god, what if Spencer had texted me? I mean, it had only been like five minutes but _still_.

A little faster, I made my way back to the living room, shouting from down the hall, “Hey, did I leave my phone up here?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but then eventually slurred, “Uhh. Yep. Sure did.”

When I rounded the corner, he was obviously going through my phone. Of course he’d figured out my damn passcode. I ran over, half-tackling him on the couch as I screeched, “Give it back, you dick!”

It was no use. He held it outside my reach, laughing at the way I scrambled over him to try and grab it. “Not unless you promise not to check it until after the movie.”

Sighing with resignation, I plopped down next to him, my arms crossed and eyes rolled as I convinced myself it was unlikely Spencer would text me within the next hour and a half if he hadn’t already. It was pretty late. Maybe he had already gone to bed and just forgotten to let me know he got home.

“Fine. I promise,” I grumbled, trying not to let the thought ruin my night.

The next two hours were like they usually were. He kept trying to cuddle with me, and I kept pushing him away until I eventually didn’t. It wasn’t romantic or creepy. Just a general familiarity with the guy I’d known for basically half of all my memories.

Once the credits began to roll, I held my hand out with zero hesitation, waiting for him to deposit my phone. He did, to his credit. However, what I found struck me to my core.

“Uhhh what the **fuck** is this?” I said, feeling the way my hands immediately began to shake.

“What?”

I held up my phone, displaying a text message sent from my phone. On the screen, clear as day, was me and him from earlier in the day. We had gone to the mall to run errands together and he had taken an arrangement of embarrassing selfies of the two of us.

This picture, though, was one that I swore I’d deleted from my phone. It was him with his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest while I laughed. It wasn’t a bad picture, but the context was entirely absent. For example, the fact that I’d almost bruised his chest hitting him right after the photo was taken.

“Why did you send this picture?!” I yelled, desperately swiping at the time stamp. “Two hours ago?!”

He was much too quiet for what was happening. I didn’t even notice the accompanying text above the picture, which read ‘ _Sorry man, she’s all mine tonight_.’ Spencer didn’t reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me that he texted me?!” My frustration had peaked, and I stood up, pacing somewhat unproductively as I tried to collect my things.

“Because I knew you’d try to leave, and I haven’t seen you in fucking ages.” He groaned, like I was overreacting. But I wasn’t. This was fucking ridiculous.

“Are you fucking kidding me, dude?” I shouted, finally finding my bag and shoving my stuff inside of it angrily. “Well, now I’m definitely leaving so. Kiss my ass.”

Before I could actually leave, I held up my middle finger, not joking at all.

“Wait, (y/n), it was a joke!” He called back but didn’t try to follow me. He knew it wouldn’t work. I was too mad.

“You’re not fucking funny!”

I slammed the door to my car loud enough to wake the neighbors, but I could not care even a little bit. My hands were shaking so hard, it was hard to click my phone. But I did, fervently pressing Spencer’s name until the phone could figure out what I wanted it to do.

The phone had been ringing for 15 whole seconds before I accepted he wasn’t going to pick up. I sighed, lowering my phone to hang up just before I heard a crackly voice on the other side.

“(Y/n)?”

Oh my god he picked up.

“Spencer? I’m so sorry I didn’t text you back! Please ignore my friend. He’s a fucking idiot.” The words were pouring out of me faster than I anticipated, and I could tell Spencer was replaying them in his head to try and make them make sense.

“It’s fine. You looked like you were having fun.”

I couldn’t tell if it was jealousy in his voice or something else. Either way, I felt _terrible_. Feeling insecure and like I needed to overcompensate, I continued with my rushed tone. “Yeah right. He held my phone hostage. I was waiting to hear from you and he got jealous or something.”

There was an awkward silence on the other side of the phone, and so I continued with only a little tremor in my voice. “I’m glad you got home alright.”

Another few seconds, but then it was the Spencer I was used to again. “Yeah. It’s less fun without you here, though.”

That wasn’t supposed to be as romantic as it was, right? He was just flirting. Like, sexy bootycall flirting? Right?

“I can still come if you want.” I rushed, looking down at the clock in my car for the first time and grimacing. “Although I’m just now realizing its 2am and I _definitely_ woke you up…”

“Typical,” he joked, “you being out late, trying to make me jealous with age-appropriate boys.”

My laugh resounded through the car, and I covered my mouth once I realized I was still in a public area. It was weird; whenever I talked to Spencer it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

“I was not! Trust me, if I wanted to make you jealous, I could do much better.” It was only a _little_ bit of a threat. “I just don’t know why he did that. And of course that picture, which I had _deleted_. He seriously had to get it from another folder. He just likes to torture me, I guess.”

Spencer cleared his throat from the other side of the phone, readjusting before he clearly enunciated, “He likes you.”

It wasn’t something I had never considered. I knew he probably liked me. But still, to have Spencer know that felt a little bit weird. After all, I think most 20-something boys would do anything to torture their friends. Even the girl ones.

“… I don’t know,” I absently said. He sensed the hesitancy in my voice, and asked back with a strange inflection, “Do you like him?”

I chewed on my bottom lip, closing my eyes as I dropped my head back against the headrest. I didn’t want to answer that question honestly. I felt like nothing I said could be right. So I just chose the closest thing to the truth. “No, not really.”

We were back in one of those awkward silences. The kind where we both wanted to say something, but nothing came out. I turned my car on, bothered by the stifled air. The sound alerted him to where I was.

“Are you heading home?”

I switched my phone to the other hand, trying to delay giving my answer by sounding busy. I don’t know. I’m just nervous. I don’t want to hang up yet.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Super smooth, I know. I could still salvage it though.

“…Unless you’ve changed your mind and would like a personal space heater in bed with you.”

Spencer’s laughter would have been offensive if it wasn’t so adorable.

“Yeah right, your feet are fucking freezing.” Yeah, that checked out.

“I’ll wear socks! I actually own thigh highs, you know. If you’re into that, _Professor_.”

It had been a few weeks, but I was still thinking about it. His laughter turned to frustrated groans as he mumbled, “Are you trying to torture me?”

Once our laughter died down, the silence was more serious than strange. I felt the urge to apologize again. I needed him to hear it.

“I’m really sorry I missed your message, Spencer.” My voice was quiet, unsure, and scared. I didn’t want to lose him, and I knew an extreme on either side of the emotional spectrum could do that. It was exhausting being emotionally lukewarm.

“It’s fine, (y/n). I’m not your boyfriend. And if I really want the company, I can find it.”

That wasn’t why I was sorry, and what he said somehow made it worse. I didn’t want him to find it with someone else. That’s _why_ I was sorry I missed it. If I missed his call, what was stopping him from making another one? I mean, I didn’t know if there were other girls, but I didn’t want to find out like that.

“I missed you the past couple weeks. I still do.” The sincerity in my voice scared me. I hated being vulnerable; especially when he was already so apprehensive about me. I wished I knew why.

But he was being his usual playful self, not willing to give me a hint of an answer.

No, just, “You’re so good at whining.”

I pouted like he would be able to see it, putting on my best whining voice for him. “I just want some cuddles. Is that too much to ask?”

“Go ask your boyfriend, I’m sure he would be more than happy to oblige,” he quipped.

“He’s not as good at it as you are,” I deflected, playing off the obvious jealousy in his tone.

“Fine. I’ll wait up.” Oh shit, wait, that worked?! Damn, he might have been more jealous than I’d thought.

Still unable to comprehend it, I gasped, “Wait really? I can come over?” An unsure laugh and an almost audible shrug later, he responded. “Sure, I figure it’ll get me to bed faster somehow, as opposed to staying on this call.”

I didn’t hesitate to start to pull my car out of the spot, happily singing into the phone, “Okay! I’m on my way! Bye Spencer!”

“See you soon.”

— _A Little While Later_ —

I knocked softly on the door, acutely aware of how late it was. I could hear shuffling feet and almost squealed with excitement. Jesus Christ, I sounded like a teenager.

When he opened the door I almost melted at the sight. Spencer had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and baggy pajamas on. Absolutely. Adorable.

“Hey sleepyhead,” I cooed. He put his arm out in a halfhearted invitation for a hug, the blanket hanging like a wing that I very much wanted to hold me.

I actually giggled as I lunged towards him, wrapping both arms around him and breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and soap.

Sighing, I mumbled against his chest. “I’m sleepy, too.”

He chuckled, pulling me close to him and resting his chin on the top of my head as he started to sway, slowly turning us around.

“Alright, little girl, you can come crawl into bed with me tonight.”

The words were like music to my ears, and I felt like I was glowing. My skin flushed and my eyes fell half lidded from some mixture of tired and pleased.

“Thank you, sir.” I slurred, smiling as he took my hands, prying me away from him to lead me back to his room.

Once we finally padded over to the room, I dropped my overnight bag on the floor and began to strip off my shirt. He eyed the bag on the floor, scratching the back of his head.

“Were you planning on staying with him?”

I felt a pain through my chest as he asked, because I knew the answer. I had been, but only because I’d done it so many times before. Our mutual friend wasn’t in the house, so I knew I could use his bed. But saying I was planning on staying there alone sounded even more suspicious.

“Yeah. I’ve stayed there before. Always in a different room. We’ve been friends a long time.”

There was something about the way he looked at me that I couldn’t place. Dangerous, maybe? But then it was gone, replaced by the apathy he usually tried to display.

I continued to strip, slowly peeling my leggings down and stepping out of them. I could feel his eyes on me.

Stretching my arms up and twisting my back, I wanted to distract him from the information provided. I had come here, didn’t I? I’d practically begged to come over.

And now I was here. I didn’t even look up at him before sliding under the covers, enjoying the lingering body heat and smell of Spencer on the sheets.

“I don’t want to know how good you are when you’re trying,” he warned. I looked up at him with guilty eyes, recognizing this was his gentle way of telling me he was jealous. But he’d said it himself…

He wasn’t my boyfriend.

“Come here.” I pleaded, running my arms along the empty space where he belonged. “I’ll show you why you shouldn’t be jealous.”

Spencer licked his lips as he looked at my exposed chest, pulling off his pajamas and slinking under the covers with me. Facing each other, my hands quickly found his erection, pumping it softly as he immediately rewarded me with a soft moan.

“I missed your cock,” I whispered, closing the gap between our faces. He responded in kind, taking his time to lay a lazy kiss against my mouth.

“I missed your hands. Among other parts.” As he spoke, his hand was traveling down my side to my center. My breathing picked up as he got closer, but he diverted, running his fingers up and down my arms that continued to work his length.

The soft whimper that escaped my mouth entertained him, and he brought his hand back down.

“Say please, (y/n).”

I couldn’t talk though, because I was biting down on my lip to stop myself from telling him I fucking hated him. With big puppy dog eyes, I watched him while I chewed on my bottom lip.

“Stop biting on that lip or I’ll do it for you. I don’t care how cute you are.”

His hand now ghosted over exactly where I wanted them, and he used the very tip of his finger to collect the wetness forming there. My hands stopped as he made contact, my grip tightening for a second.

“Say please.”

He wanted me to beg for him to touch me, but I didn’t want his hand. It was almost 3 AM now and I was exhausted and needed him. All of him. Now.

“Fuck me, sir,” the words spilled out of my mouth. “ _Please_ , fuck me.”

A content humming came from him as he brought a hand to my hair, pulling my head back to look him in the eyes. I could see that look in his eyes again. That possessive, dark stare.

“I p-promise,” I stuttered as one of his fingers teased at my folds. He raised his eyebrows as he waited for me to continue my thought.

“I promise I won’t think of anyone else.”

That playful characteristic snark that has originally driven him to me had returned, and he was pissed. He liked it, though. He wouldn’t admit it, but the way I read his darkest desires like a book must have driven him insane.

He guided me by his hold on my hair, lifting me off the pillow and growling in my ear, “ **Turn around**.”

I obeyed, happily pressing up against his crotch as I settled into my position as little spoon. I noticed a lack of a pause this time, and gears began to click together as I felt him rub the head of his arousal in the slickness pooling around my thighs.

“I have some questions for you, little girl.”

He sounded _pissed_.

“When was the last time you got tested?” I could hardly think straight as I realized where this was going. “L-last week. I-I haven’t… haven’t slept with anyone else. Not since you.” My answer earned me a soft kiss on the neck, and I tried to still my hips from knocking back against him. “Good. Me neither,” he replied. I sighed in relief, happy to at least answer that question.

“Is there any way you could get pregnant right now?” He continued, and I shook my head no. He stopped my head with one hand, grabbing me by the chin from behind.

“Use your words.”

“No!” I half shouted, realizing I just sounded like a brat. “No, no I can’t. I’m on birth control. I won’t.”

My breath matched pace with my heart, and I swore I was already lightheaded. “You can…” I panted, “you can do whatever you want.”

When he released my hair, my head fell forward just for a second, because soon my entire back arched in response to the way he began to push inside of me.

“Good.”

With that, he fully sheathed himself inside of me, and I cried out as I felt the way he stretched me. His hand swiftly covered my mouth before he began to pound into me from behind.

One of my hands tried to keep me in place on the bed, while the other flew up to his hand over my mouth, holding it without trying to remove it.

I was calling his name underneath him, and he responded by making shorter, deeper thrusts. He chuckled in my ear, “It’s always funny how fast you stop acting like a brat after I put it in you.”

My eyes rolled back at his words, breath shuddering against his hand. He slid all the way out of me, and then applied enough force to push me up in the bed.

“Have you ever had someone finish inside you before?” He asked sweetly, moving his hand from my mouth and dragging it to move the hair that had fallen in front of my face. I went to shake my head but remembered his instruction. So instead, I just forced out a, “N-no.”

“Good.” He responded again, and my toes curled at the pride he felt in claiming this body as his own. He took my hand in his, pulling it down to feel the small bump forming in my abdomen each time he slammed into me.

The next time it appeared, he halted, holding me in position against him.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard that the next time anyone even thinks about touching you, all they’ll taste on you is _me_.”

He pulled out slowly, pounding into me again. “And if you want them you can explain to them how you begged for me to come inside your tight little cunt.”

I legitimately had no idea these words were capable of coming from him, and each one made my body shake as he kept himself fully inside me. I ached at the way he filled me, desperately clinging to my own stomach where I could feel him.

“Good luck thinking about anyone else while I run down your thighs, **_fucking_** **_bitch_**.”

He finally moved his hand, but it was not a merciful action. His fingers rubbed in the mess of our bodies, then dragged the wetness back to my clit, pressing harder than he ever had before.

My head was still swimming from his language, and I thankfully didn’t have to use my words. He was very capable of figuring out my body language himself.

I could feel the way the heat coiled in my stomach, the tension building as his mouth ran along my neck. Once he attached himself to one spot, driving into me at a brutal pace, I felt the energy shift and begin to blossom.

Feeling the way my muscles quivered around him, he stopped his kisses, groaning loudly in my ear.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he continued to moan, his thrusts faltering as I tried to coax his orgasm out of him. It seemed to be what he was waiting for. Unable to contain the shrill cry that tore from my chest as his arousal filled me with his seed, I tried to pull away from him. But I couldn’t, his hands holding me down and his hips rocking as deep as they could possibly move inside of me.

Exhausted, I tried to move away from him once his movements stilled. However, in another surprising move he slid out just to slam back into me again. I whimpered from the overstimulation, doubling forward as he gave a few more deep, rough thrusts before pulling out entirely.

I have no idea how, but he immediately got out of bed, leaving me a sweaty, desperate mess on his bed. Thankfully, he tossed me a towel to help me clean up so I wouldn’t have to sleep in the puddle of our essence dripping slowly down my legs. Shaky and satisfied, I somehow managed to make it to the bathroom and clean up. Thank god I’d brought extra underwear.

This time when I returned, he was still awake. He was sitting up in the bed, his eyes closed and contemplative. As I shut the door, he finally noticed my presence, turning to look at me with an awkward smile. Once I had slipped on a pair of underwear, he pat my spot on the bed.

“Come here, little girl.”

A little too excited, I shuffled over with a bounce in my step. Not satisfied with simply lying next to him, I curled into his side, wrapping my arm around his waist and nuzzling my face to his chest.

From here, I listened to the way his heartbeat seemed to slow down with my touch. His muscles relaxed under me, like he had been anxiously awaiting my return.

“You’re not really a bitch.” He mumbled, half asleep. I couldn’t help but laugh, tilting my head up to glance at him from my position on his chest.

“I mean, I am a little bit. But I know what you mean.”

He wrapped a tight arm around me, using his hand to run softly through my hair. Leaning down, he gave the top of my head a small peck. I smiled against his skin, loving the way it felt to be surrounded by him. It felt safe.

“Thank you for coming here with me tonight,” he said in a low volume, like the words might spook me. “You’re a very special girl. I hope you know that.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I stayed frozen in place. Waiting to hear the rest of what he wanted to say. They say we’re most honest at night.

“I’m really glad I met you.”

I closed my eyes, breathing in the words that felt like a balm on my aching soul. I felt like I might cry. Unable to come up with a response that wasn’t terrifying, I sat up, crawling up to him and pressing a tender kiss on his lips. He looked at me like the answers to the universe were written on my skin.

I went to kiss him again, but he stopped me with a hand on my face. “Don’t… if you kiss me like that again, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

I didn’t ask what he was stopping himself from doing. No matter how badly I wanted to. Instead, I ran the back of my fingers against his cheek, whispering in the space between us, “Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again.”

My desired outcome came true, but not quite how I wanted. He didn’t kiss me deep or passionately. He kissed me soft, like my lips were made of glass. He kissed me like he was protecting me from the terrors of his mind.

“Go to sleep, little girl.” He instructed gently, coaxing me back to my position on his chest as we both sunk down to lay flat on the bed. “Picard can wait.”

Laying here, next to what I was convinced was an actual human angel, I gave myself permission to drift off into sleep, hoping that my dreams could be half as good as reality.

That didn’t happen.

I’m not sure what time it was when I woke up, but it was still dark outside, so it couldn’t have been too long after. Spencer had turned away from me at some point, and I sat up as I noticed a strange sound from his side of the bed.

It was… crying.

“Spencer?” I asked as quiet as I could, a gentle hand on his shoulder, still unsure whether he was asleep.

His body jerked under my touch, and he sat up much too quickly, grabbing his face in both hands before realizing.

“Hey, Spencer, are you okay?” Suddenly extremely worried, I brought both of my hands to his arms, pulling him closer to me. He looked down at his hands, wet with tears that he must not have been aware of. He didn’t say anything.

“Were you having a nightmare?” So many red flags were burning through my brain, and I didn’t know what to do with the information in front of me. I just wanted to help him.

“I… I must have been. I’m sorry.” He wiped at his tears, like he could erase what I had already seen.

Moving his hands away, careful to keep my touch as non-threatening as possible, I wiped his still falling tears away with my thumb. “Why are you sorry, Spencer?”

“I… don’t know.” At least he was honest. Although truthfully, it really scared me. He was showing signs of something I was deeply familiar with, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone in the world. Especially not him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“ **No** ,” he replied with a force so strong I thought the word was physically painful for him to say.

“Okay,” I reassured him, “We don’t have to.”

He wasn’t laying back down. He wasn’t moving at all. It was like he was somewhere else entirely. I moved closer to him, placing a hand on his back to gently rub circles and another on his lap.

“Do you want me to hold you?” It was worth a shot. I didn’t know how else to help him if he didn’t want to talk about it.

His eyes were fixated on my hand on his lap, his breathing slowly regulating the longer we sat like this. Still, he halfway refused. “It’s okay.”

Raising my hand again, I ran it through his hair, guiding him to look at me with a tentative smile. “You’re not a burden, Spencer. I want to.”

The tears were falling again, albeit slower and with his mouth curved ever so slightly. I tried to give him my most maternal look, not waiting for him to respond again.

“Come here, love.” I motioned to me, and he dutifully followed. Soon his head was on my chest, my hand curling his hair around my fingers. He hugged my waist like I was the only thing keeping him here.

I tried not to think about the way his tears wet my skin, hoping that for now this would be enough for him to get some sleep.

— _The Next Morning_ —

A mop of curly brown hair was the first thing I saw when I woke up to the shine of the sun through the curtains. I smiled, but only until I remembered why he was on my chest.

Did he even get any sleep?

When I went to pet his head again, he stirred under me, pulling himself closer to me the same way he had before. I didn’t want to think about what had happened, but I knew I had to.

Normal people don’t wake up crying from a nightmare, and they certainly don’t get painfully defensive when it happens. What had happened to him before he met me? What had he been through? And had he told _anyone_?

I was painfully reminded that he was not the superhero I made him out to be in my head. He was just a man, trying his hardest to do more good in the world than all the evil combined. That’s an impossible task, though. He was doomed to fail.

His ears must have been burning, because the longer I thought about it, the more he woke up. Eventually he was entirely alert, sitting up and removing himself from the position we’d assumed for the past several hours. I was surprised to remember what it felt like to be able to breathe without the weight of him on top of me.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, watching as he effortlessly got out of bed and began to get ready. He seemed embarrassed, but he really shouldn’t have been. “Did you get any sleep?”

Spencer ran his hands through his hair before he turned back to me, a smile on his face like nothing was wrong.

“No, this girl woke me up at 2 AMvand _insisted_ I sleep with her.”

It was nice to know he was still capable of joking, but concerning to see that he was so good at compartmentalizing. I laughed along with him, sliding out of the bed to get dressed myself.

“What a _bitch_ ,” I said with a smirk.

As hard as it was to pretend like last night didn’t happen, I knew that he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Heaven knows it would be much worse to burn the bridge now. At least if I built trust now, he might be willing to talk about it later.

“You know, I wasn’t actually going to tell you to come over last night.”

The 360 of the conversation took me by surprise, and I blinked rapidly to try and reorient myself. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m glad you did. But I was actually going to ask you if you’re free tonight.”

Ugh, this man is really putting me on an emotional rollercoaster bright and fuckin’ early.

“Yeah, I am. If you’re still wondering.” So many questions I wasn’t ready to ask yet. Like, why were you wondering? Why did you need to schedule this? Is this another ‘not-a-date-date?

“I wanted to take you somewhere,” he mentioned casually, finally fully dressed while I still struggled to put on my clothes.

“Where?” The excitement was clear in my voice.

“It’s a surprise,” he said with raised eyebrows, like he was so very proud of himself. I’d let him have this one, but only because he was so damn cute.

“Fine. That means I have to go home to get cleaned up first, then.”

He seemed only a little disappointed by that, but overall acquiesced. I was a little sad about it, too, but distance makes the heart grow fonder, right? Besides. I wanted to look cute tonight for my _surprise_.

We didn’t talk much before I left. I could tell he was still struggling with coming to terms with what he’d accidentally revealed to me in the middle of the night. Honestly, it was a good thing I left. The desire to talk about it was overwhelming.

But some things are better left unsaid… For now.

— _That Night_ —

Spencer came to pick me up without a hitch, and I climbed into his car fully expecting him to not tell me where we were going. He didn’t. Of course, after about 30 minutes I recognized the route we were going. When I pointed it out to him, he still refused to give me a single hint.

That is, until we pulled into Observatory parking lot.

“I’ve never been here before!” I squeaked; my excitement clear enough in my body language. Clutching my purse, I turned to the man who was very interested in my reaction.

“I figured. You aren’t nerdy enough to go by yourself.”

“Hey, I can be cultured too, you know.” I said with the worst posh accent you’ve ever heard. His genuine, lighthearted laugh awakening the butterflies in my stomach.

A teasing smile on his face, he glanced away as a reminder that he didn’t believe me. Asshole. But forever a gentleman, he joined me on my side of the car, helping me out and accompanying me into the building.

“Isn’t this place usually closed to the public? I know they have limited general admission days.” I asked, but I already knew the answer. I just wanted to see if my hunch was correct.

“Yeah, I might have called in a favor or two.”

Fuck, I was going to die. My heart could not handle this. My grip on his arm tightened, but he didn’t mind. I guess it was because we’re kind of far away from anyone he would know that he suddenly didn’t care about the PDA. I wasn’t going to ask, and I certainly wasn’t complaining.

Once inside, Spencer knew exactly where to go. I watched in awe at how many people knew who he was, and how much they looked up to him. I mean, I did, too, but it’s easy to forget just how impressive he is when you’re usually alone with him.

It certainly wasn’t an issue tonight. For the next two hours he walked me through all the stars in the sky. Much like the museum, it consisted of me marveling both at what he was telling me, and the man himself.

He told me the story of the vain Queen Cassiopeia and her doting husband Cepheus, still holding each other in the stars millennia later. He spoke enthusiastically and with no sense of pacing. Half the time my eyes left the telescope, turning instead to marvel at the way he moved his hands and fidgeted with his hair as his voice tumbled out of him like it couldn’t be contained.

It was just the two of us in the room when he finished, the dim lights and quiet ambiance catching up with me as I stared at him with all the reverence in the universe above us. He eventually finished his thoughts on Perseus and Andromeda, and I could tell by the look on his face that their love story meant something to him.

“You’re quite the romantic, Dr. Reid.”

He seemed surprised by the sentiment, like it was something he’d never heard before and wasn’t sure what to do with it. He laughed awkwardly, moving closer to peer into the telescope. I’m thinking he was just trying to avoid looking at me.

“Not sure many people would use that word,” he said under his breath. “Well, I did,” I replied much more confidently. He was smiling but trying to hide it.

“You said you were 14 when you went to college, right?” I said with narrow eyes, trying to read him from under the large machine. “Yeah,” he responded, “why?”

“Probably didn’t go to prom then, huh?” He basically jumped when I asked. He knew what was coming, and from the long “Uhhh,” he started, I knew he was about to try to run away. I stopped him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to me.

“Come on; dance with me.”

He looked around the room for an excuse. There was no one there, just the two of us on arguably one of the most heartwarming dates I’ve ever been on in my life.

“There’s no music,” he scrambled, eventually admitting, “aaand I can’t dance.”

God, he was _so fucking cute_.

“I can teach you, _Dr. Reid_.” He wasn’t getting out of this one. I hopped down from the stool, taking out my phone and pulling up a playlist that exactly suited this situation. “And I have all the world of music at my fingertips.”

He groaned, grumpily putting out his hand for me with a hidden smile in his eyes. I took it with an even brighter grin, immediately bringing him closer to sway slowly to the music coming from my phone seated on the stool.

The acoustics of the room let the music flow through, and within moments we had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. My cheek rested against his chest and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You lied to me, Dr. Reid. You definitely know how to dance.”

“Okay, but does it really count if you’ve only ever done it with your _mom_?” He admitted, and now I really couldn’t stop laughing. I threw my head back, trying to control myself as he started to laugh along with me.

“Don’t laugh at me!” He pouted through it. “I’m sorry,” I whined, “you’re just so fucking cute I don’t know how to handle it.”

Finally able to stifle my laughter, I looked up at him with even more fascination than I’d showed the stars. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that look in his eyes. He was returning all the passion in my gaze back to me.

“There are over a million words in the English language, and I still can’t think of a single combination to explain how I feel about you.” The idea took my breath away, and my smile fell into a look of smitten shock.

“I-I’m surprised you don’t know the exact number,” I said with an awkward chuckle, trying not to show him just how much it impacted me.

“Well, some estimate that it’s 1,025,109, but new words are created constantly, and it would depend on what actually counts as a new word. Not to mention the different dialects, words that have fallen out of common use, or words that may be used for entirely different purposes despite being the same.”

I raised my eyebrows, not at all surprised that he had an answer, but excited to hear it nonetheless.

“But it doesn’t matter. Because no matter the number, I know it won’t be enough.”

My eyes lit up like the stars we had just spent hours staring at, and I wondered if he could tell. He must have. His hand on my hip pulled me closer, our hands intertwined as our pace slowed to a stop.

Our breath was unsteady as he came closer to me, pausing just before our lips touched. We shared the oxygen between us, daring the other to do what we both know we shouldn’t.

So I did, leaning up to kiss him as my hand slid up his arm and around his neck. His hesitation melted into the embrace, our tongues gently sharing space in an entirely new way.

I thought to the millions of stars in the sky, realizing that I shared Spencer’s skepticism of an unknown number. Because no matter how many stars there were, I knew there would never be enough to outshine this moment between the two of us.

It was not a hurried or excited kiss. It was an amorous, amazing promise of a kiss. It was the kind of kiss that they wrote about in Corinthians.

It was patient and kind. It was not proud nor self-seeking. Spencer’s now free hand held my face against his. The way they wrote that love always protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres.

Did he feel the way he was kissing me?

Because I did.

I felt it like a storm, the breeze blowing the air from my lungs and breaking down the walls around me. I held onto him and this moment, scared of what this meant for us. How could I pretend like we were just friends when I shook for days at his touch?

This is why I was the one to end the kiss, looking down away from him as I did. A soft, defeated chuckle as I took a deep breath.

When our eyes met again, I lowered my arms to his chest, listening to the soft tunes still floating through the room.

“We should go home now,” I whispered. He was reading my reactions; I could feel it. And in doing so, he had lowered his own walls too far. I could see them behind his eyes.

My voice shook as I continued, “… before you do something else to try and make me fall in love with you.”

Spencer didn’t look scared as he replied with a cheeky grin on his cheeks. “Why, is it working?”

I almost passed out at the way his eyes softened at my goofy smile. “I’m kidding,” he immediately followed.

I rolled my eyes, pushing him away from me as I went to retrieve my phone. I wanted to play it off like it was nothing, but my heart felt like it would fall out of my chest.

I tried not to think about it too hard as we made our way back to the car. As he helped me in, I realized that we were really going to continue acting like none of that just happened. I tried to think of how that kiss we shared could be written off, but I couldn’t.

That was not the kind of kiss between friends. It was not the kind of kiss between strangers. It was the kind we both implicitly promised not to talk about.

Once the trip home had begun, I gathered the courage to tread lightly on the topic. “So, what was the fantasy for tonight?”

A little confused, he glanced over at me, careful not to take his eyes off the road. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve found each time we’re together there’s some sexual component,” I chuckled. “This is pretty far from home, and you seemed very into it. I was just wondering what inspired this trip.”

I was trying to avoid obviously ogling his reactions, shifting my eyes from him every few seconds. I had leaned against the door, surprised by just how tired I really was. He was doing that thing where he weighed his words again.

Eventually, he shrugged. That softness returning to his features from before, he began, “To be honest, (y/n)…” Actually turning his head entirely to me, he spoke through a delicate smile, “I just wanted to look at the stars with you.” 

The stars returned to my eyes, and I could see them reflected in his. My heart sped up to prepare for the panic as I realized that it was definitely too late for us. Because his efforts were working. They had been working all along, and I never tried to stop them.

As I drifted off to sleep in the comfortable silence of our company, I couldn’t ignore the obvious. _I think I’m in love with Spencer Reid and I think he’s starting to love me, too._

But we couldn’t just love each other in isolation, and I wasn’t sure he was ready to make that leap with me. In fact, I knew he wasn’t. I still knew basically nothing about him, and he knew virtually nothing about me. How could it be then, that our souls felt so at home with each other?

Which would hurt more? Finding out he didn’t love me, or that he did… and just wishes he didn’t?


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something’s up with Spencer & Derek shows up at his door; a couple days later, they have their first fight.

My dreams had been particularly absent as of late. I wondered if it was because I was too busy living them.

Fantasy and reality had been blending together in a symphony of overwhelming emotion. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The warmth surrounding me was greater than just the temperature of the car, it was the spirit of Spencer’s company.

I was awoken from the thought by strong arms under me, hoisting me out of the car as my head lolled over to his chest. It took me a moment longer to realize that he had picked me up, quietly carrying me towards the apartment.

“Pumme down,” I slurred while my eyes struggled to open, my hands weakly protesting my position. Spencer just chuckled, readjusting to try and follow my instructions. However, I just as quickly almost tumbled out of his arms in my rush to the ground.

“You are so graceful,” he laughed harder now, holding onto me as I steadied myself on my feet, not even bothering to fix my messed up hair.

Rubbing my eyes to try and wipe the exhaustion off my face, I replied in the least hostile voice ever, “Shut up.”

He waited for me to lead the way, probably to make sure I didn’t fall on my ass. Truthfully, I was a little surprised he chose to take me to his place instead of mine. After all, it was late and he’d barely gotten any sleep last night. I wasn’t going to complain though.

This time when we entered his apartment, he didn’t seem to care if I wandered around. However, it’s probably because I was _tired as shit_. I headed to the bedroom on instinct, beginning to strip before he even entered the room.

“Getting comfortable?” He joked, and I wondered which way he meant the question. Was I getting comfortable existing in his space, or by removing my clothes? The answer to both questions was yes. Wasn’t planning on telling him that, though.

Instead, I just smiled. “See something you like, Dr. Reid?”

Immediately recognizing the line from our first night together, he shook his head with an equally snarky grin. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

“I can’t help it,” I shrugged, “I think about it all the time.”

“We can make a new memory if you want.” 

The twisting sensation in my gut reminded me how quickly he could turn the tables on me. That stupid, suave motherfucker.

As he approached me, my heart beat recklessly, like a child with a drum set. I like to think that I am quick on my feet and easily able to bounce back… but sometimes Spencer was just so…

 **Gentle.** That was the way he touched me, his hands coming up from behind me and gingerly exploring my chest, stomach, and hips. With his cheek pressed against my temple, I could feel the way he deeply breathed in the scent of my perfume still lingering after the long day.

Caring was the way he spun my body around to face him, kissing me with the same unrelenting passion I’d felt in the observatory.

Quiet jubilation was my response, my hands taking their time removing his clothes as he backed me against the bed. This silence persisting between us was not actually silence at all, the room filled with soft sounds of our breath quickening and the rustling of fabrics as they were thrown to the ground.

He lifted me off the ground and onto the bed by the backs of my thighs, climbing onto the bed with me as he positioned me nearly flat on the bed.

At first it was just like all the other times we’ve shared, although something felt distinctly different. There was an emotion running just under the surface of our contact that I tried to will away.

Spencer’s slow descent down my body was _not_ helping. He was only passing by my chest and I was already a steady flow of moans, clutching desperately to his shoulders that were moving out of reach.

It wasn’t until he pressed a long kiss just above my pubic bone that I realized what he was planning on doing. My muscles tensed under him, my legs clamping together in painfully obvious shyness.

“W-what are you doing?” Had I actually just fucking stuttered?

“I think you know what I’m doing,” he responded, his hand easily separating my legs as his kisses continued onto my inner thigh.

I reached down, covering myself with my hands as my face burned with all the blood that should be reserved for more fun activities.

“B-but, it’s late. We should… do something else instead.”

“No,” was his response. So simple, so cruel.

“But Spencer,” I whined, cursing my legs for shaking as I felt his tongue gliding closer to my center.

“What? You can’t honestly tell me you’re too shy after you let me finger fuck you on the metro.”

I smiled nervously at the memory, still shifting back and forth to avoid his touch getting too close to where he wanted to be. “I-It’s not that it’s just… It’s never… done anything for me. So it’s not worth it.”

“Oh?” Spencer’s eyes immediately filed with a dark, voracious greed, a smirk spreading across his face that I’d never seen before. If I was nervous before, now I was terrified. I’d never seen him so competitive.

“You’re not broken, little girl. Promise.”

My legs were shaking so desperately now I couldn’t have stopped him if I tried. Without another thought he spread my legs, positioning himself enthusiastically under my knees and between my thighs.

“Some things…” his breath hot against my arousal, “just require a man’s touch.”

With that, he finally ran his tongue between my folds, the combined wetness of his mouth and my body leaving me drowning in a sea of his pleasure. My eyes were clenched shut as he explored every piece of me he could reach.

My fingers curled and rooted in his hair, tugging mercilessly as he dipped his tongue inside me, no doubt enjoying the way I squirmed and shook for him, laid out before him like a decadent meal.

“S-Spencer!” I cried as my legs wrapped around him, heels digging into his back. Knowing that he couldn’t respond with words, I wasn’t at all prepared for the way his responding moan reverberated against me.

“Fuck!” I yelled again, my breath coming in short, loud bursts. He raised his mouth just a few inches, his nose pressing hard against me as his tongue lavished the sensitive pearl at my crest.

I couldn’t moan his name, or anything else, at this point. It was just careening mewls, whines, and screams to the tune of Spencer’s ministrations. It was a mistake to look down at him, his pupils blown so wide that I could barely see the brown as he fixated on the wrecked look on my face.

Throwing my head back, I held him down against me as he switched from long laps of his tongue to short, flickering motions, gently suckling on me like a man starved.

I couldn’t take it much longer, finally breaking through the tension to find sweet release, the vibrations of his hum of pleasure following me over the edge. Now simultaneously overstimulated and invigorated, my body tried to relax.

But Spencer didn’t relent. No, he became even more fervent, bringing a hand up to join his mouth.

Jesus, how could this man still breathe?

Wasn’t my problem. Because as soon as two long, slender fingers plunged into my heat, I was blinded by ecstasy

My entire body was spasming underneath him in a disjointed mess. When I could breathe, they were gasps of air akin to the first one taken after being swept into the riptide.

His fingers curled inside of me, stroking me in harsh, long movements until my muscles began to flutter once more. My second orgasm was shorter, but twice as intense. I couldn’t identify the ways he was touching me, feeling all consumed by this man.

As I came down this time, he slowed his pace with me, eventually drawing his face away with one final brush of his tongue up the length of me.

I shuddered, my back arching off the bed as the weight of my legs collapsed against him. Sweat dripping down my temples, I couldn’t stop the way my body continued to tremble underneath him.

“That…” his voice breaking from the lack of breath and use, “was definitely worth it.”

Once I was able to breathe and form a thought, I responded with an equally crackly voice, although mine was for a different reason. “Spencer Reid, you have positively _ruined_ me.” I rasped with a laugh, “I don’t know how anyone else will ever compare.”

Using the back of his hand to clean his face, a smile appeared for both of us. Stalking closer, his face hung above mine as he admitted, “Good. I want you all for myself.”

And he had me. He had me until the stars fell from the sky and ended the Earth in a fiery ball of smoke. When the world is drowned by the oceans falling from the sky he would have my last full breath.

I would be his until he wouldn’t have me anymore, and then a little longer after that.

Which is what I told him when he kissed me. The taste of myself on his tongue, we shared more than bodily fluids. I wrapped tired arms around his neck, tangling our limbs together to stop him from floating away from me.

There was no salacious provocation. There was no anger at all. It was a deep, meaningful yet silent compassion.

So synchronized our minds and hearts that my hips knew to raise when he brought his arousal to mine, my body accepting him with only a little apprehension.

With just enough force to fully join together, he pushed into me, his kiss becoming deeper. He was trying to tell me something that I had begged him to say but was now terrified to hear.

Maybe I should have changed the mood, tried to turn this into another meaningless romp between lonely strangers. But I didn’t. Part of me didn’t want to. Most of me didn’t want to. But the small piece of me - the scared, lonely piece - begged me to hold on to the space between us.

Spencer’s thrusts were slow and meaningful. The muscles in his back tensed with each movement, dedicating every part of him to this dance with me. The long, powerful moan that crept through my throat broke the kiss, and I couldn’t stop myself from calling to him again.

“Spencer,” I whimpered.

He had that look in his eyes again, the possessive, ravenous look that made me feel like I belonged here, with him. He fit within me so perfectly, each movement drawing my hips into a soft rocking motion with him.

His hand almost felt cold against the burning skin of my cheek as he directed my eyes to stay fixed on his. He swallowed a moan, desperately trying to remain composed as his pace began to increase in force and speed.

“(Y/n)…”

Oh no. That voice. I had only heard that voice from him twice, and both in the last twenty four hours. ‘ _Don’t_ …’ he had first begged with that voice before hypocritically criticizing the million plus words in the English language for not being able to express his feelings for me.

“(Y/n),” he repeated, working up the courage I would never let him utilize. “I—“

The speed with which my hand raised to cover his mouth with my fingertips was startling in comparison to the agonizingly slow pace of the rest of our bodies.

“Shhh,” I hushed, my eyes softening as I begged him to keep his words to himself. My actions hurt him, but the alternative might have hurt worse. Besides, what was the point of saying it if I already anticipated it?

 _I don’t think you love me as much as you think you do, Spencer Reid_.

Once it was clear he wouldn’t continue, my hands returned to the back of his neck, bringing him in for another wistful kiss. More insistent now to act out the words he wished he could say, our tongues joined in the exploration of one another.

Although just as slow, Spencer drove into me as hard as he had before, my entire body shaking as I slid against the sheets. I clung to his shoulders, letting his lips slip away from me as he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

The stifled sound of my name on lips left me trembling at his mercy. But that was nothing compared to the way shockwaves spread through my body as he growled in my ear, “Come for me.”

It was a command I was all too excited to surrender to. With one last careening cry, my body tensed around him. I could feel my walls fluttering, trying to hold onto him and carry him over the edge with me.

His hips were flush against mine as he drove into me one last time, holding himself as deeply in me as he could. He propped himself up, locking our eyes together as he finished. ****

“That’s my little girl,” he uttered as his warmth spread within me. My mouth hung open as I panted his name, my eyes trying not to roll back. The exhaustion that quickly followed was unlike any of our previous trysts. My heart felt as heavy as my muscles felt weak.

Spencer dropped his forehead to mine, granting me one more kiss filled with longing. I kissed him back just as sweetly, my fingers barely pressed against his jaw.

We didn’t say anything. There was nothing left to say. I couldn’t find words to shift the energy in the room, and I didn’t want to. Once he was off of me, I was the one to leave first.

He didn’t watch me as I walked away; his vision was locked on the ceiling as he let himself be lost in his thoughts. I could only imagine what they were about.

I returned to the bedroom to find him standing at his closet, just as lost in thought. I wasn’t even sure he heard me come in, but he definitely heard the curses I muttered under my breath.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, turning to see me crouched over my bag on the floor.

“Yeah, I just forgot my sweater. And no offense, but you’re a giant blanket hog.” The little chuckle afterwards was to make up for the fact I could barely maintain eye contact with him.

It was strange how much more naked I felt right now, compared to when our bodies had been tangled in a mess of pleading and sweat.

He didn’t respond to my comment, turning to his closet and pulling something from the top shelf. I wasn’t sure what it was until it landed in my lap.

A navy blue crewneck depicting two hands holding a torch, with “Caltech” below it. My breath caught in my throat, and I looked up at him, my mouth open but unable to make noise.

“It’s fine,” he responded to a question I hadn’t even asked. “It doesn’t fit me anymore, anyway.”

An awkward smile later, he finally made his way to the bed and slid under the covers. His back was to me.

Slipping into the sweatshirt, I took a moment to breathe in the way it smelled like the home I’d found with him. This sweater had obviously been loved; it was worn around the edges and lightly bleached from too many washes.

I didn’t let him speak the words ‘I love you’, so he found other ways to say it instead.

Under the covers I inched over to where he lay, snaking my arm around his waist and pulling myself as close as I could to his back.

“Thank you, Spencer.” I said with shaky reverence. I wasn’t talking about the sweatshirt.

An equally unsteady breath left him, and I knew he was avoiding looking at me for a reason. I wasn’t going to make him. He put his hand over mine on his chest, holding tightly for a moment before relieving the pressure.

He didn’t say it, but I could hear it in his thoughts.

‘ _Don’t_ ,’ he had warned me, ‘ _I won’t be able to stop myself_.’

Why hadn’t I listened? Why had I let him kiss me like that? Had I make a mistake in stopping those words?

Had that been the only chance I’d ever have to hear Spencer Reid say he loved me, even if it wouldn’t have been entirely true?

His heart beat against my heart to remind me that I was still in this moment with him. He let me hold him as I drifted off to sleep.

I wondered if he would still join me in my dreams.

— _The Next Morning_ —

When the sun peeked through the windows it landed on the bed next to me, my arms clinging to sheets and empty space.

Spencer was not there anymore. 

Although I hadn’t expected it to be the same as before, I was surprised to find the nothingness. The bed wasn’t even warm, a sign he hadn’t been there in some time.

Trying not to panic, I managed to slip on leggings and pack up my things. I wasn’t even sure what I would do if he wasn’t here. Before I would have loved the opportunity to get to snoop, but now it just felt dreadful to be here without him.

Luckily, it wasn’t too hard to find him. I rounded the corner, spotting him curled up on his couch with his head resting against his arm. He looked _miserable_ , the bags under his eyes visible despite his being asleep.

The alarms in my mind were blaring, and I begged them to be quiet. My heart was breaking with each step he didn’t wake up. Left with no other choice, I placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, hoping not to spook him with a lighter touch.

He immediately stirred awake, seemingly surprised that he had fallen asleep in the first place.

“Spencer, are you alright?” I asked as I got down on my knees in front of him, meeting his height as he sat up.

“What time is it?” He ignored my question.

“9:30,” I replied patiently, my hands resting on his knee. “Why are you out here?”

His hands ran over his face like it would answer my question. I wasn’t giving up, though, continuing my questions until he answered at least one of them.

“Did you have another nightmare? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Just **shut** ** _up_** ,” he snapped, and I actually jumped at the words.

“I-I’m sorry,” my voice shook as I watched the guilt wash over him. My hands dropped from his lap and my body shrunk into itself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s not you. I just— I couldn’t sleep.” Like that wasn’t fucking obvious. I felt terrible but I didn’t know how to reach him like this.

He had to let me.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Something happened in the pause between us. Spencer’s eyes met mine, and I felt the way he was tugging at my heart.

His tongue swept over his lips, contemplating whether I was safe to share this unknown weight with. His mouth barely opened, a sharp inhale that usually precedes catharsis.

I never got my answer.

The knocking on the door was more like an insistent banging, with a very worried male voice on the other side.

“Reid, it’s Morgan. Is your phone broken? Where you at, man?”

Spencer hadn’t looked this rattled in all the time I’d known him - not even when he’d found out he was hanging out with a criminal (me).

“Oh, _shit_ ,” he hissed, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me away from the couch. “Shit, (y/n), go to my room.”

“What? Who is that?” I whispered back, looking back at the door as the man continued to knock.

“ ** _Go_** ,” he cryptically replied. So I did, bolting down the hallway and waiting as I heard him answer the door.

“Hey, sorry, my phone died.” Spencer explained to the man I couldn’t see.

“You look like hell. Everything alright?” At least this man shared my concern for the obvious mental breakdown he was clearly going through. “Yeah, I just… didn’t get much sleep.”

As much as the man seemed not to trust the response, he sighed. “Well, tough break. We’ve got a case. I’ve been calling you for an hour. You can sleep on the flight. We’ve gotta go.”

“Alright. Give me a minute, I’ll meet you at the car.”

Okay, that was a plan. Then at least I could get out of here before Spencer did. Not like it would be bad if I left after him, but I just wasn’t sure if that’s something he wanted to do.

“Reid, wait,” the man named Morgan said, clearly stopping the door from shutting. “Are you sure you’re alright? I can tell Hotch you can’t make it if you’re not.”

Perceptive. I guess that was their job.

“I’m fine,” Spencer clearly lied, “go wait by the car.”

The sound of the door clicking shut was what I needed to breathe again, and I relaxed against the wall just in time for Spencer to briskly walk past me, not even pausing to look at me.

I padded after him, grateful that I had already packed up my stuff. I picked up the bag, pausing to stare at him. He could feel it but didn’t make any indication of how he felt about it.

“Just go.”

My lips tucked together, trying to find the right words to say right now. He was frantically packing stuff together in a go bag he never even had a chance to unpack from the last time. I had begun to turn when he stopped, tossing the clothes at the bag as he rushed over to me.

His hands grabbed my face, crashing his lips against mine in a flagrantly fond manner. It felt like a kiss meant to say goodbye for longer than one trip.

Now even more wary, I grabbed onto his wrists by my face, looking up at him with one more plea. “Please, Spencer. Take care of yourself. Come home safe.”

For the first time, his eyes flickered down to his sweatshirt swamping my figure. Although startled, I could see the desire to please me behind the wall steadily forming between us.

“I will.”

I was not convinced, but he wasn’t going to accomplish that any time soon. I let him go, turning back to watch him one more time before I left.

As I exited his apartment I pulled the door softly, turning the handle and waiting for it to close fully before releasing the latch.

“Hey,” a confused voice rang out. I was not alone in this hallway.

Like a deer in the headlights, I didn’t even look at the man whose voice I immediately recognized as the one who had been at Spencer’s door a few minutes earlier.

Shit! He was supposed to be down by the car!

“Sorry to scare you. I just… Well, to be honest, I don’t really know what to say. It’s usually Reid that catches girls leaving _my_ apartment.”

The inside of my brain was literally just screaming, my hands beginning to shake as I stepped back from the door, frantically avoiding eye contact with Spencer’s coworker.

“I-I was… You know, it’s not like… That.” I stumbled over words, sounding like a fucking idiot. Morgan’s eyebrows raised, a clever smirk on his face as he laughed.

“Babygirl. It’s 9:30 in the morning,” he pointedly remarked, an accusing finger aimed at the logo on my shirt, “and that’s not your sweatshirt.” **Fuck!** I forgot I was even fucking wearing it!

“I might not be Reid, but I know this isn’t a study group.”

All of the admittedly poor excuses in my mind came out in a defeated whine, my head hanging in shame. “Pleeease don’t tell Spencer.”

His chuckle was comforting. I understand now why they’re so good at what they do.

“No worries. I’m just glad you didn’t keep him any longer. I’m guessing you’re the one that kept him up all night.”

My face fell, and the way he responded told me he immediately understood why. He didn’t ask, although I could tell he wanted to.

“I… I’m worried about him.” My hands clasped together in front of me, worrying the sleeves under my fingers. He turned to face me more fully, and I could feel the way he inspected each movement of my body. He wasn’t as subtle as Spencer, which was its own relief.

“Will you keep an eye on him?” I blurted out, finally making strong eye contact. “Make sure h-he takes care of himself. That he’s okay?”

Morgan nodded, a familiar solemn look on his face. “Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” I sighed, tucking my hair behind my ear as I glanced down the hallway. “Uh, I-I should go before he comes out.”

He followed my line of sight down the hallway, then nodded again. As I passed him, he called to me one more time, “What’s your name?”

I halted mid-step, not sure how to respond. I didn’t turn around, forcing out my first name as quickly as I could.

“(Y/n).”

Only time would tell if I’d just made a terrible mistake.

— _Three Days Later_ —

There was something about cases like these, the ones where the happy ending isn’t nearly happy enough, that stick with me. I had fucked up yesterday and I knew it. I’d let my emotions get the better of me and made a stupid mistake that could have hurt people.

Thankfully, it didn’t. But I knew that the man in the driver’s seat next to me was still fuming. If it was any consolation to Derek, I was just as upset with myself. But that didn’t stop him from asking the question I’d been waiting for since he first picked me up at my apartment.

“What’s been up with you, man?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled back under my breath, acutely aware of how unconvincing it was. I hadn’t slept in days and my head was killing me. It took everything in me not to wear sunglasses right now, knowing that he would use it against me.

“Nah, we’re not playing like this. This isn’t just about you, Reid. You need to talk to me. How am I supposed to trust you?” There it was. He was acting like he hadn’t seen this coming. As much as I didn’t want it to be true, we were all profilers. He could either keep acting like he hadn’t been overanalyzing everything I did and shut up, or let it go. 

“Nothing’s changed!” I nearly shouted, “There’s no reason you shouldn’t!” It wasn’t true, but I wasn’t going down this road without a fight.

“Something is up with you, man. And it’s making you reckless.”

Ha! Of all the people to lecture me about being emotional, immature, or selfish? What a joke. “Oh, **_I’m_** reckless?”

“Yeah, Reid. You are.” His tensed jaw in his stern reply lit an anger in my chest that I was holding back with every bit of strength I had.

“Do you know what happened the other day when I came to get you? After you let your phone die cause you weren’t sleeping? A girl came out of your apartment and told me she was worried about you. You wanna tell me about that?”

I can’t even pinpoint which word that came out of his mouth set off the blind rage in my mind. The pulsating pain in my temples was nothing compared to the bile that stung my throat or how my stomach tied itself into knots. She did _what_?

The pause was stretching too long; I was giving him too much information. But my response was just as pathetic, my voice cracking as I whispered, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Damn right I don’t. Cause you haven’t told me anything about this.” I could barely see straight, nonetheless comprehend what he was saying to me. I wanted to scream at her right now. She told _Morgan_? What the hell was she thinking? This was my career!

“What’s a girl doing leaving your apartment in your clothes, telling me to look after you?” God, he was still talking. I don’t know how I would handle this situation without the headaches, and I certainly don’t want to handle it in a car after watching someone blow their fucking brains out in front of me. 

“Hey, Morgan, here’s an idea. How about we don’t interrogate girls the other one is sleeping with?” I snapped, my hands finally leaving their clenched fists.

“I didn’t ask her shit, Reid. She looked terrified. How old is she anyway? 25?”

This was more than he was ever meant to know – especially at this point. I wasn’t prepared at all to handle everything that was going on with her. That’s why I hadn’t told anyone about her. I’d wanted time to deal with the shit I already had going on. It hadn’t been long since Emily waltzed back into my life, taking any trust I had in JJ with her entrance.

It hadn’t been long since I had to hold tighter to my NA chip to stop me from dipping into the locked box in my apartment. I can’t handle this. I couldn’t handle her if she was going to make my life any more complicated than it already was.

“She’s not important.” I tried to convince myself the words were true.

“Really? She’s not important but you give her your sweatshirt?” Of course he fucking caught that little detail. I rubbed my forehead, the pain returning in a crushing manner. I felt like I couldn’t fucking breathe.

“I’m not buying it, Reid.”

That was it. That was all it took for me to lose any sense of sanity or compassion I had left in reserve, my voice raising higher than I’d used with Derek before.

“Morgan, she’s just some **_stupid_** _fucking girl_ I picked up at a bar. It doesn’t matter what she said. She doesn’t know **anything** about me, okay? She’s **no one**.”

The look on his face as the scathing words burned my tongue told me neither of us believed me, but neither of us was going to challenge it, either.

“Fine,” he said, defeated, “Sorry I even asked.”

I leaned back in my chair, giving in to the temptation and putting my sunglasses on.

“Great.”

— _That Night_ —

The sound of my phone going off woke me, and I was a little surprised to see Spencer calling me in the middle of the night. Usually he texted me to avoid this situation. Especially on a weeknight.

I picked up the phone, my voice groggy and unsure, “Spencer? It’s after midnight. What’s up. Are you alright? Did you just get home?”

Nothing could have prepared me for the hostility I was immediately met with. “Yeah, I did, and I had a very interesting conversation with Morgan. Do you want to explain what the fuck that was about?”

My heart clenched in my chest, and I grabbed my head to try and stop it from spinning. It didn’t work.

“M-Morgan…?” I stuttered, trying to regulate my vitals, “Is that the guy from the other day?”

“I’m pretty sure you know who he is, (y/n).” Spencer’s voice was quick, harsh, and unrelenting. I’d never heard him like this before.

“What did he say? Are you alright?”

“No, not really, I’m pretty fucking pissed.” I could already feel the tears pooling in my eyes, knowing that I’d make a mistake I couldn’t take back. Knowing I would have to deal with this all, right now.

“Telling my team that you think I’m unstable? What the **fuck** were you thinking?”

I scrambled to defend myself, since he sure wasn’t going to do it for me. “I **never** said that, Spencer.” My tone was beginning to match his, and I hated it. I didn’t want to fight with him.

“Well what did you say, then?”

I ran a hand through my hair, looking over at the clock on my nightstand that read 1:01 AM and mourning the sleep I was never going to get now.

“Please, let’s talk about this in the morning. You need to sleep. We both do.”

“Fuck that, we’re talking about it right now.” The noise that came out of my mouth was halfway between a sob and a sigh, tears starting to stain my face as I tried to stop them from going too far.

He didn’t seem to care, continuing on his tirade, “I don’t have the luxury of pretending like nothing happened and going on with my life like a selfish fucking child.”

“That’s not **fair** , Spencer,” I croaked.

“Oh, it’s not _fair_? It’s not fair for me to treat you like a child now? After you jeopardize my _career_?” There was some truth to his words; I had crossed a line that I shouldn’t have. But was that really my fault, that I cared about him when he didn’t?

“Spencer, I was worried about you! You hadn’t slept in two days. You were crying in your sleep. What was I supposed to do?” The light in the hallway came on as my roommate woke up to the sounds of my hushed yelling.

Great, another problem for me to deal with. Another person I was inconveniencing.

“Mind your own fucking business and not tell my coworkers, for one.”

Quieter now, my hands motioned around me like he would be able to see it. Through clenched teeth I urged, “Let’s not pretend like I didn’t have reason to be concerned.”

Spencer bitterly laughed, “What the fuck do _you_ know?”

There was no attempt to stymie my voice nor frustration now, practically yelling into the phone.

“You almost told me you fucking loved me, Spencer! You don’t fucking love me! You don’t even know me!”

A pregnant pause following, and I could practically see the way he was clenching his eyes shut, trying to hide his blatantly obvious emotions behind his hands. “I didn’t say it though, did I?”

Now it was my turn to scoff. “Because _I_ stopped you!”

“And that’s _my_ fault?!” He shouted back.

Throwing my head back against the headboard, I winced at the distraction of the pain. Maybe it knocked some sense into me, because I was starting to remember that this man wasn’t supposed to be the enemy.

“I’m not _blaming_ you, Spencer.” With a deep breath, I tried not to sound like I was crying.

“But I’m not going to let you sabotage this relationship, either. Tell me right now that if I’d let you say it, you wouldn’t have found another reason to end things. **Just** like you are **_right now_**.”

It was hard not to let the anger bleed through my voice as I tried to keep it together for both of our sakes.

His reply was much quicker now, “(Y/n), we don’t have a relationship.”

The words were like a kick to the stomach, and I doubled over as if one had actually landed. We were really still acting like this was fucking normal friendship? Pouring our hearts out and screaming at each other at 1 AM?

“And right now the conversation isn’t about something I did. It’s about _you_ trying to ruin my entire fucking life over your sick idea of romance.” Is that really what he thought I was fucking doing? I was over here worrying about whether he was going to come home safe and he thought I was just trying to get attention? Unable to tell if this was genuine miscommunication or just him projecting, I needed to see him.

“I just… if we have to talk about this tonight, please just come over. We can talk about it.” The emotion was clear in my voice, and I couldn’t hide the tears any longer. I was practically choking on the words, feeling the pain in each fiber of my being.

At this point, I didn’t even care about him being with me. I just wanted him to be okay.

“Come over? Why, so you can try to convince me to fuck you so I forget about it?”

Choking on my breath that was coming in gasps, my voice matching the static of the background noise. “ _Excuse_ me?”

Blood boiling and burning breath, I seethed, “What the **fuck** is the matter with you?!”

“If you know me so well, why don’t you tell me yourself?” He scoffed to hide the hoarseness in his voice.

Was he crying?

“Stop being like this, Spencer. Please.” I was begging him. “I was worried about you. And clearly, I was right to be.”

“How about you worry about yourself before you try to fix other people, (y/n).” There was no laughter or hesitance now, just bitterness and unprecedented hate he was projecting on me.

“ _Me_? What the fuck did _I_ do?”

“Aside from breaking the law literally the first night I met you?” I rolled my eyes at the pathetic excuse. Like I was the first person to ever use a fake ID. He didn’t seem to mind it that badly before.

But it was what came next that vaulted way too far over the line.

“How about how you constantly require some twisted, sadistic attention to make up for all your fucking daddy issues?”

“ _Daddy issues_?!” The guttural growl came from a darker side of myself that Spencer had never seen. “Oh you want to talk about _daddy issues_ , motherfucker? What do my _daddy issues_ say about you? What does it mean that you want to act on them? How you love to tell me I’m _your little girl_ while you fuck me? Or how about calling me a bitch while you fantasize about putting a baby in me? Don’t fucking talk to **_me_** about **_my_** daddy issues, Spencer.”

Heavy breaths were mirrored through the phone, the line eerily quiet without the screaming accusations.

“I’m done talking to you.” He was quiet now, resigned to the end we had reached. But I wasn’t done yet. I was still mad. Daddy issues? Fuck him.

“Why? Because you can’t handle the fact that I’m right? Because you’re ashamed of me? It’s okay to have feelings, Spencer. I just want you to talk to me about them instead of acting like everything is fine when it’s **_clearly_ fucking not**.”

“Don’t ever contact a member of my team again. I don’t want or need your help. You don’t know fucking anything. You’re not my girlfriend. You never were.” I’m not sure if a yell would have been any better, but the sudden clarity in his voice killed me all the same. Crying loudly into the receiver, I closed my eyes, pleading his name one more time.

“Spenc—“ I never got to finish. He didn’t even say goodbye. 

I wasn’t even worth that.

The sound of the dial tone was deafening, burning into my brain as I clutched the phone in my hand before tossing it across the room. I shrunk into myself, pulling my knees to my chest and burying my face in them.

I don’t even know what had happened. The call had barely lasted five minutes. That’s how long it took for everything to come crashing down around me.

Falling onto my side as the sobs wrecked my body, I spotted that stupid fucking sweatshirt next to me. Torn between wanting to burn it and cling to it, I chose the latter. I buried my face in the fabric, trying to breathe in the way it still smelled like his room.

Would I ever be there with him again? Was he really going to throw it all away that easily?

I knew he didn’t love me like he thought he did, but had I really underestimated just how little I meant to him? I hadn’t, had I? It couldn’t have just been me.

He didn’t get to be the one to tell me that he loved me right before he left me.

He didn’t get to do that when **_I_** was the one who fell in love first.

Spencer Reid had just made an enemy of the wrong girl.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader challenges Spencer to come find her at one of the frat houses; Jealous!Spencer makes his first appearance.

_I’m not going to think about Spencer tonight._

That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. I was a fucking liar though, so, whatever.

“Hey! (Y/N!) Get off your phone and come take a picture with us!”

With a sigh I set my phone down on the table, waltzing over to my friends with that faux confidence a girl wears the first few times she goes out after getting dumped.

I could still call it that, right?

Fuck! I was still thinking about him.

This is exactly why my friends made me go out with them this weekend. It had been over a _month_ since that night and I was still wallowing in my apartment with that stupid fucking Caltech sweatshirt. At least I had left that behind this time.

I was an hour away from home on one of the biggest Greek nights of the year. I was going to find something, _anything_ to distract me from Spencer tonight.

So why was I still thinking about him?

At least the edible I took is starting to kick in, because I am able to look at least halfway excited in each of the pictures, albeit just a little bit fucked up.

Wouldn’t he be mad about that? I bet he would.

 _Shit!_ Okay. This isn’t working. Might as well lean into it.

Picking up my phone from its resting spot, I immediately pulled up mine and Spencer’s text history. I just needed to make sure it had actually been over a month.

“Please come see me if you can.” That was the last message I had sent him. He read it almost immediately but never replied. Figures.

The rest of the history was filled with silly emojis (all from me), with his responses short and usually just consisting of “Just got home.”

What I wouldn’t give for one of those messages now. I used to get so worried about him when he was gone. Well, I still do. It just never goes away now. I shouldn’t worry about him, though, right? Does he worry about me?

“Girl, do **not** text him right now. Are you serious?”

Busted. I whined, scrolling down to the bottom of the chat and holding it up for her to see.

“But look at the last message he sent me. It literally just says ‘ _I miss you_.’ Tell me I’m crazy for thinking he might still apologize.”

After all, if he was checking the chat, he’d see that too, right? Assuming he hadn’t deleted it immediately, which he probably had. But I wasn’t entirely sure. He could be somewhat of a romantic, after all.

“Oh, shit, well. You might be right actually. He’s _typing_ right now.”

“ **What?!** ” I screeched, pulling my phone back with way too much excitement, watching the bubbles floating just for a second before disappearing again.

Oh _hell_ no! Spit it out right now, you fucking bastard!

The bubbles popped up again and suddenly everyone was around me, waiting with bated breath to see if a message would follow through. After a few minutes, though, the dots disappeared.

They didn’t come back this time.

My blood was _boiling_. He didn’t get to play with me like this. If he wanted to talk to me, then I was **getting** my apology.

Fingers tapping furiously on the screen, I pulled up the group chat filled with pictures we had literally just taken.

“What are you doing?” My friend asked with a bit of a chuckle, clearly starting to feel the impact of the gummy bears from before.

“I’m texting him back,” I answered matter-of-factly, ignoring her correction of, “But he didn’t actually text you.”

“Don’t care!” I sang, hitting send on the photo of an incredibly scantily clad group of girls with locked arms taking shots.

‘ _Hey Spencer, if you still have something to say you’ll have to find me on Rugby Road. Can’t promise I won’t find something more interesting before then xoxo’_

— _Two Hours Later_ —

There are many reasons to come to a frat house. For some, it’s an excuse to find someone to kill their loneliness. For others, it’s a chance to escape themselves. Tonight I was _absolutely_ both.

Spencer didn’t respond to my message. I knew he saw it because those stupid fucking dots appeared again on and off for a few minutes, just to disappear into nothingness again.

He knew where I was. It had been two hours. If he was coming, he would have been here by now.

I guess that was my answer.

At least this was a way more distracting environment. If I tried really hard, I could count at _least_ three different hands on me.

Normally I wouldn’t be able to handle this kind of environment, but there was just something about the way the bass shook the rickety, sticky wooden floors of the Phi Kappa Psi house that made me not give a fuck.

Well, that and the alcohol and THC in my system.

Suddenly the hands around me were reduced and replaced, two strong hands gripping my hips from behind.

I’m not a perfect person.

With my eyes closed and imagination wild, I could do something with these hands. They were as good as any, right? Put me in a dark enough room and I could pretend hard enough to get through this first night. Like ripping off a band-aid.

I didn’t bother turning around, letting this man whisper dirty nothings into my ear while I continued to dance. There was a time where I would have decked this man in the face for pressing himself against me like he was right now.

But not tonight. I just let his hands roam my body, my arms above my head as I contemplated whether it was really worth it to turn in so early. It was only, what, 11 PM?

I heard a minor commotion coming from the entrance and just assumed that a basketball or football player had shown up. I guess that would be a challenge for the night, if I wanted one.

Then again, I had a much easier target behind me, responding very positively to the way my hips rolled against him. Oh well. What was one more one night stand?

That thought never really came to fruition, because while my eyes were still closed, I felt a more familiar strong hand snatching my wrist out of the air, dragging me forward with a force strong enough to make me fall forward.

I hit the hard wall of a man’s chest. Pulling my arm and stumbling backwards, I fell back into the previous man’s waiting arms. Well, shit, at least he didn’t let me fall.

“What the **fuck**?!” I yelled over the music, finally looking up to see who it was that had ripped me out of my daydream.

“(Y/n) what the fuck are you doing?!”

“Spencer?!” I shouted back, holding a hand to my temple as the man behind me kept his hands rooted firmly around my waist. I couldn’t give a single shit about what this man was doing right now, much more interested in the man in front of me.

“Whoa, didn’t know you were dating a cop,” the man behind me said at a volume loud enough for both of us to hear. Tilting my head up to him, I looked back at a bewildered and frankly _furious_ Spencer.

I took hold of the two hands on me, instructing them with one motion to continue their previous path up and down my waist.

“He’s not a cop,” I responded, turned to the man while maintaining eye contact with Spencer. His jaw visibly tensed under the strain of clenched teeth.

A small smile graced my lips. “And he’s _not_ my boyfriend.”

With that, I turned my back to Spencer, my hands pressing hard against a stranger’s chest, and he was all too happy to accept my attention. Men are stupid.

He honestly wasn’t that bad looking; I bet he could find another girl to go home with him. I honestly might have under different circumstances.

But Spencer’s hand was on me again, this time on my shoulder as he forcibly separated us, knocking me back into the crowd as he faced the stupid frat boy just trying to have some fun.

“Cops aren’t the only ones that carry a gun.”

I’d never heard Spencer’s voice at that register, staring this kid down with pure deadly instinct. I tried very, _very_ hard to not look as turned on as I was. Because I was still pissed! But also, this was fucking hilarious.

“Spencer!” I shouted with an incredulous smile, watching as my plan B mirrored the same puffed chest and anger displayed by my plan A.

Jesus Christ, men are so stupid.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” The music had changed and somehow gotten even louder.

I groaned, putting my arm between two men having a pissing contest to push Spencer back, stepping in front of him and continuing to push him into a less-populated hallway.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Spencer?! You can’t just threaten guys who want to dance with me!”

Backing me against a wall, he looked down at me like he had gone through hell to get here. I wondered how long he’d been patrolling the streets, honestly. I guess I’d miscalculated how long it would take to find me tonight.

“Dance with you? Are you fucking kidding me? He wasn’t trying to dance with you, (y/n).”

The air that burned through my throat was heavy, but I was quickly distracted by the feeling of his hands tugging on my dress that had apparently ridden up.

Oh, he was trying to protect my modesty now? The same guy who very much enjoyed shoving his tongue down my throat in a nightclub under very similar circumstances?

I pulled the dress back up, revealing a lacy strap on my hip.

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do!” I yelled, honestly just wanting to challenge him in any way I could. I wanted him to be mad. I wanted him to feel as angry and frustrated as I do.

“Why would I? It’s not like you ever listen!”

My eyes rolled so far back in my head I thought they might actually get stuck there, the way they used to tell me as a kid. I pushed him away from me, storming past him to maneuver back down the hallway.

He was following closely behind, and I didn’t really know how to deal with that. I just needed a minute to comprehend that he’d actually come here.

Forcing myself through the crowd, I grabbed a clear cup from the corner of the table, chugging half the contents. But then Spencer was back beside me, knocking the cup out of my hand and splashing half the contents on my dress.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Spencer! It was **_water_**!”

He did not seem to care.

“ _Me_?! You have no idea what was in that cup!” He shouted, his arms gesturing to the mess that was the impromptu bar beside me.

Apparently done having this half-conversation, he grabbed hold of my wrist and began dragging me out of the house. I hated to admit it, but this was kind of exciting. I blamed it on the edibles.

The cool night air hit me harder than I was expecting. I hadn’t realized just how hot my skin had gotten in the house. Once we got to a place where I could talk at a normal volume, I tugged my hand out of his grip.

However, I miscalculated just how disoriented I was, and immediately almost fell on my ass. Thankfully, Spencer had the foresight to see this coming and caught my arms, pulling me back up.

It was kind of funny, and I made as much obvious when I broke out in a fit of giggles. He was not enthused.

“Are you drunk?” He asked, grabbing hold of my face with his free hand, the other supporting my body weight around my waist.

“Why don’t you put your tongue in my mouth and find out for yourself?” I slurred between laughs. His eyes narrowed as he moved his face closer to mine.

Fuck, I forgot how soft his hands were.

Beaming at him, I leaned into his hands as he forced me to look up at him.

“Are you fucking _high_?”

Gasping and holding my chest with feigned shock, I tried to talk without laughing. Clearing my throat, I enunciated very clearly, “Absolutely not, Officer.”

He was digging through his pocket now, and before I knew it there was a cell phone flashlight blaring directly in my eyes. Snapping my head back and closing my eyes in a very delayed reflex, I cringed.

“Fuck! That’s bright as shit!”

Unfortunately, it told him everything he needed to know.

“We’re leaving. **Right now.** ”

My heart was beating wildly in my chest from a combination of fear and excitement. I’d never heard him talk like that before. I must have really pissed him off. It’s not like I’d planned for him to actually be here tonight! I was going to be here either way.

I didn’t struggle, following him to his car down the street. He really had gone down each individual house looking for me - he must have been here for a while.

Watching him with an intense desire to understand what was going on in his head, the only thing I could get from him was that he was angry. Like, really, _really_ angry.

He opened the door for me and shut it for me, too. The relative silence of the car while I waited for him to get in was only a little awkward.

Once he was in the car with me, I leaned over the center console, my face in his. He didn’t move his face or features, just staring at me with a bored fury.

“Are you mad at me?” It was a dumb question. But I didn’t care about that answer more than the answer to my second question.

His nostrils flared as he refused to answer the question, just staring at me like I could read his thoughts. They were kind of obvious.

“Why? Because I was dancing with another _boy_? I’m still leaving with you,” I reminded him with my tongue cheekily sticking out my mouth.

My body was almost entirely over the console, my knees the only part still on my seat. I planted one hand on his thigh, and his reaction was immediate.

His hand was wrapped up in my hair within seconds, pulling me up so we weren’t touching anywhere else. I laughed louder now, understanding that this specific reaction just goes to show his anger was, at least in part, sexual.

“Oooh, you’re jealous! Of your not shit, stupid, sadistic, ‘ ** _not_** -girlfriend’ letting another man touch her!”

Opting not to react to my words, Spencer looked at me with deadly seriousness, muttering through clenched teeth, “Sit **down**. I will not hesitate to throw you in the back of this car.”

I puckered my lips to stop myself from laughing, gripping the center console to push myself back into my seat. He let go of my hair like he were trying to throw it away from him. Like he was disgusted by me. Whatever.

For the first time in awhile, I pulled out my phone. A few of my friends had been there for the disaster in the house and were blowing up my phone. 

Spencer was silent. For the most part. Every now and then he would angrily sigh, running his hand through his hair and looking over at me ignoring him.

Once we were about fifteen minutes from home I realized that he was taking me back to his apartment. Well, now, that was interesting.

“Taking me back to _your_ place?” I snorted, finally putting my phone down to look at him. He didn’t reply.

“Why? So you can try to convince me to fuck you so I forget about it?” I mocked, quoting the same thing he’d said to me the last time we talked. He returned a glare as his breathing got heavier.

Still, he was able to finally talk, his voice betraying his stoic appearance.

“You’re clearly drunk and _high_. I have no idea what you took, and you’re not going to tell me,” his voice wavering. “…So if you want to act like a child, then I’m going to watch you and make sure you don’t fucking die.”

God, he was so overdramatic. He didn’t even ask me what I took. What, did he think I was over here doing meth in my free time? For fucks sake.

“And here I thought it had something to do with you trying to fight some drunk frat boy for getting handsy with me. But sure. It’s all about my _honor_.”

His knuckles turned white under the pressure on the steering wheel, which reflexively caused me to sit up.

Again, I’m not a perfect person. I know it wasn’t the best time to be thinking about what those hands used to do to me. But at the same time, could you blame me?

So much of our relationship before was based on exactly this - the taboo, secretive domineering side of him. So in a way, this was his own fault.

“Did you really, honestly think that this was the best way to get my attention?” The question flared the raging flames in my gut once more. He wanted to do this? Again?

“I didn’t think you’d show up. You told me you were done with me, so.” I raised my hand in a defeated shrug, laughing off the hurt from repeating our conversation.

“I’m not going to let you hurt yourself.”

Now **that** was funny.

“What? You were _worried_ about me? So you behaved in a rash, not-entirely-thought-out manner?” I faked a gasp, covering my mouth dramatically as I stared at him.

“This is not the fucking same,” he immediately snapped back.

I had quick replies, too. “Of course not, because everything is only about _you_.”

We were pulling into to parking lot when he turned to me, raising his voice another level. “About _me_? Are you kidding me?”

“Did I fucking stutter? Am I laughing?” I shot back as he parked the car. He leaned forward, putting his face in his hands as he tried to compose himself better than I currently was.

“It’s times like these that I’m reminded just how young and immature you are.”

Committed to being the biggest brat possible at this point, since he apparently also wanted to fight, I unbuckled my seat, leaning over to him so our faces were much too close.

“That must really get you going, _Dr. Reid.”_

A heavy swallow later, he asked with as close to apathetic as he could muster (which was to say, not close at all), “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you having trouble hearing me, or something?” I asked, waving a hand in the small space between us.

“We’ll talk about this inside. Get out of the car.”

It was the tensest walk I’d ever made in my life. As soon as that damn door clicked behind me, I spun around to unleash my fury on Spencer. However, he seemed to have a similar idea.

“Well, here you go. You’ve got my fucking attention, (y/n).” His words were laced with a bitterness I certainly didn’t deserve. I returned it with a dark chuckle, the anger swelling in my chest.

“I didn’t need your fucking attention, Spencer.”

He laughed, pushing his sleeves up his arm. It took me this long to realize he had clearly come straight from work. At least that explained the fucking gun.

“Then do you want to explain what all of that was about? Flaunting the fact that you’re putting yourself in danger, having a complete stranger grope you in front of me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right!” I shouted, throwing my hands up in the air as I walked away, “I forgot it’s only okay when it’s _you_ groping me at a club!”

Okay, that was different. I could hear him preparing to point out the technicalities of my statement and wanted to put an end to it before he even started.

I turned around, not really sure where I was going in his apartment, anyway. Of all the time I’d spent here, almost none of it was out in this living area.

He had been following me, and when I spun around I was surprised to see we were already basically touching.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Spencer! You’re not even my friend! You said you were _done_ with me.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth, and I made myself promise not to cry.

Still, my voice shook as I nearly screamed, “I can fuck **whoever** I want!”

One hand pressed against my shoulder, he backed me up until I could feel the edge of his desk stop my retreat. His tongue swept over his lips in a delightfully angry manner.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” His voice was also shaking, but I suspect for another reason entirely. His volume was much lower, despite the energy radiating from him.

I tightened my lips, looking down at his hand on me before jerking away from his touch.

“Yeah, w-well… You don’t!”

He never even let his hand fall. As soon as I moved, he raised it to my hair; his usual comfortable resting place whenever we were this close.

My face was flushed from the anger, alcohol, and now something else. Yet still, I was scowling, my teeth bared and entire body bristling with hostility.

“You sure about that?”

The words hung in the air. His body was now close enough to mine that I could feel the way our hearts banged against our ribs as if they could throw punches at the other.

I was so fucking mad. So tell me why in that tense silence, the slightest motion immediately shattered any space between us.

Within the blink of an eye, our mouths crashed against each other with bruising force. I didn’t touch him as his arms enveloped me, pulling my entire body up to meet his.

My feet were barely touching the ground under the force of his hold on me. Where his hands were anchored tightly on my waist and hair, mine flailed behind me, knocking the contents off his desk behind me.

As the papers and books clattered to the ground, Spencer immediately hoisted me on top of it, freeing his hand to take my face in his hands.

The way our mouths slid against each other was painfully breathtaking. It wasn’t long before I was practically moaning into his mouth, my hands reaching for whatever item of his clothing they could grab.

“ **God** , I fucking hate you,” I muttered as we broke apart, my hands stumbling in the dim light to undo the buttons on his shirt.

“Really seems like it,” he returned before coming back for another ravenous kiss. I could not unbutton his shirt fast enough for either of our likings, so he removed his hands just long enough to begin at the bottom.

We met in the middle, like we did in so many ways.

Ripping his shirt off, he shot a rather serious taunt, “Why should I fuck you? You’ve been a complete brat all afternoon.”

I leaned back against the desk, my hands sliding on the paper that I also pushed off, not caring about the mess left behind.

“Cause I’m _so_ sorry. I’ll _never_ do it again.” The sarcasm dripping from my words like the sweat forming on our brows.

This time when his hand was on my face, he pulled the skin taut. His eyes dug into mine like knives. He meant it when he replied, “God, I’d love to make that mouth do something useful.”

I sat up, leaning forward towards him and into his hand, baring my teeth as I dared, “Do it.”

I’d never seen his breath so labored, his pupils so dilated like they would actually consume his entire irises. The disheveled, unhinged man in front of me was the one I wanted right now. The one I _needed_ right now.

“I don’t trust myself to fuck you right now.” The words were strained and begrudging. I had underestimated just how riled up he would get, but I still knew at least one thing was true.

“I trust you.”

There was a flash of relief and affection in his eyes - just a moment, before it disappeared again.

I chased that feeling, but also wanted to feel this man finally find catharsis. He wanted to show me how angry he was but was holding back. There was a happy medium.

So with wanton eyes I took one of his hands into mine, gingerly lowering it from my face.

“You would _never_ hurt me, _Daddy_.” His reaction to the words were immediate, his hand flinching under my extremely tender touch.

“At least…” I whispered, placing his hand against the column of my throat as I finished, “not more than I ask you to.”

When he removed his hand almost immediately, I frowned in mild disappointment, but understood why he might not be comfortable with that. Still, it would be fun.

Then again, maybe he had other ideas. Because as I sat perched on the chaotic scattered papers, he was nonchalantly removing his belt.

“Ooo, you gonna spank me again?” The words were mostly a joke, but he was actually considering it after my suggestion.

“Is that what I have to do to make you get it?”

I happily shrugged, raising my eyebrows as I giggled. “You should do it, anyway, Daddy. _Hurt_ _me_.”

With a heavy exhale, he threw his belt onto the couch behind him. “See, this is why I can’t.” He gestured to my relaxed posture across his property.

“You have way too much fun when you’re supposed to be getting punished.”

He wasn’t _wrong_ per se, but it revealed another problem with his strategy. I crossed my legs, feeling the familiar sensation of my dress straps slipping off my shoulders. His eyes followed each movement I made, like he was choosing his favorite course of action first.

“So what are you gonna do then? Cause it all sounds pretty fun to me.”

A sinister smirk appeared on his face, and I could feel something shifting inside of him as he spoke in a low, breathy voice.

“You really need to learn when not to push me, little girl. I know a lot of very fun ways to make you shut up.”

Our eyes locked as the back of his fingers brushed softly against my cheek.

“At least, they’re fun for me.”

My already half-lidded eyes fluttered shut, sighing at the sensation.

“I guess I’ll just give you what you clearly think you want.”

Roughly shoving his hands up my dress, he readjusted my hips to yank my underwear off. The smooth wood of the desk under me cold against my heated skin.

“I bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you,” he said with a smirk, dropping the fabric to the floor before leaning over me. His words tingled against my ear, the animosity bleeding into my soul.

“But now I’m going to remind you why you always come back to mine.”

That was the only warning I got before his hand was wrapped around my neck, applying a light pressure just below the sides of my jawline. The smoldering eye contact continued as he began to undo his pants, freeing himself within a few seconds.

Still able to take small, struggled breaths, I whimpered as he hesitated. Holding his face inches in front of mine, he urged, “ **Don’t** lie to me, little girl.”

I knew what question was coming and was able to get out a few words.

“T-there hasn’t been anyone else.”

Call me foolish, but I didn’t feel the need to ask him. Something about the way he touched me told me everything I needed to know.

He inspected my face for a moment longer, a small wave of relief washing over both of us at the admission. I had told him before, though. He had ruined me. I didn’t know how anyone else would ever compare.

“Good,” was his response before he lined himself up against my heat. I closed my eyes, which led him to loosen his grip on my throat. But I wasn’t lightheaded from that; I was overwhelmed with the anticipation.

I wrapped one leg around his waist, and he took it as the permission he sought. The lamps on the desk rattled as he thrust into me. It had been awhile since I had been with him, and my body’s response was heightened as a result.

How could I forget how fucking good this felt?

Spencer must have forgotten, too, because his pace started with some semblance of control that was quickly thrown to the wind. My hands were still sliding over all the items strewn about, but his hands kept me anchored against him.

“Fuck,” he panted as he began to drive into me with all the pent-up passion from the last month. Still, he somehow managed to keep an even pressure on my neck, and after about 30 seconds stars began dancing across my vision.

Raising a hand to my throat, I tapped it gently. His hand immediately retreated, and he instead wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me against him to recoup my breath.

But his pace and force did not relent, and I could already feel the sensitive skin of my backside burning from the friction against the desk. Any marks left, though, I was certain would be worth it.

The rhythmic, numbingly pleasurable clashing of our bodies together wasn’t just fueled by hate and anger. There was that possessive sadness; the guilt from our last fight propelled our desire. With each motion of his hips, I felt closer to him.

All that cheesy stuff they say about making love being the becoming of one – I deeply understood it. Because still trying to fill my lungs, I was elated that it was with the smell of his cologne. His hands dug into my skin like they would actually fuse into me.

Our lips met again, this time firm and unarmored. His moans filled my mouth as I canted my hips forward, trying to allow him deeper into me. He enthusiastically complied, pulling me almost entirely off the desk as he did so.

I didn’t care. I trusted him to catch me if I fell.

That raw, unrelenting passion I felt so often with him was fully flowing between our lips, hands, and souls. I cried out as he grabbed my thighs now wrapped around him, pulling them down against his hips as he thrust into me.

The air between our eyes sizzled, and I craned my neck back, trying to communicate any way I could without using my words. Luckily, he was able to figure it out. We usually were.

He dropped one of my legs, and it fell under the pressure of his hips crashing into mine. His hand settled against my pulse point once more, and I felt my excitement peak to new heights.

“You better sound really fucking sincere if you tell me to stop after you beg me for this,” he mumbled, closing his fingers tightly against my skin. My mouth fell open in a smile, my eyes trying to stay focused on him as he chased our release.

Unable to handle the sight of Spencer completely lost with pleasure, holding onto my neck while plowing into me, I was finishing before I even knew it. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I struggled to take a deep breath as his groans filled the room.

My body tensing around him, I could hear one of the lamps toppling onto the ground. The sheer chaos all around meant nothing to either of us. I was thankful that my eyesight began to clear as he bottomed out inside of me, because the look of satisfaction and relief on his features was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.

As he flooded my insides with his essence, I felt a second wave of warmth and pleasure overtake my body. I shivered, goosebumps rippling across my skin as my vision got fuzzy. Luckily, he removed his hand from my neck at the same time. I was nodding off from the exhaustion and inebriation when he caught me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back up to rest against him.

I clung to him this time, savoring the way it felt to be a mess of tangled limbs with him. I took deep breaths, burying my face into the crook of his neck. His hand stroked the back of my head, and I could feel the way my heart was simultaneously healing and breaking all over again.

So… What now?

I wasn’t sure. We stayed like that for awhile – longer than we needed to. We stayed holding each other in a tender embrace, our fingers committing the patterns to memory. There were no words, although I had many things I wanted to say to him.

I was the one to pull back first, and Spencer quickly retreated. Once we were apart, it was like the distance stretched back between us immediately. Any gentle affection dissipated into the tense, angry air from before.

Weren’t we both too tired to keep this up?

Then again, it’s only exhausting if you’re emotionally invested. His jealousy didn’t necessarily have anything to do with me. More often than not it’s just a product of pride and narcissism. I swallowed, climbing off the desk and making my way to the bathroom before Spencer so much as turned back around to face me.

In the small room, I pat cold water on my face, careful to clean up any stray make up. Brushing my hands through my hair I asked myself why the fuck I was here. I didn’t have an answer. How fucking ridiculous.

This man made me stupid.

Once I was acceptably put together, I exited the bathroom and found my phone in my purse strewn across the floor. I was tapping at the screen, feeling the distinct aura of Spencer staring at me from a few feet away.

“Well, Spencer, it’s been swell,” I said, clearing my throat as I opened the ride sharing apps to figure out when the fastest car could get to me, “but I’m gonna head out.”

There were no immediate responses, probably because he was trying to build his case.

“Promise I won’t die. I can go stay with someone else if that helps.”

When I finally looked up at him, I realized it was a mistake. He had that distant sadness in his eyes, which quickly he quickly averted.

“Fine,” he muttered in a voice that made it very clear that it was very much not fine. But if he didn’t want to fight for me, then I wasn’t going to make him.

My thumb hesitated over the confirmation button, and I decided not to press it yet. I wanted to give him _one_ more chance before I let him go forever. I could just call it once I got outside.

But _please_ beg me to stay.

Our backs both to each other, the sound of the knob clicking open by my hand was much too loud. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, hearing just that sound through the rushing of blood in my ears.

“(Y/n), wait.”

Oh thank god.

A breath shuddered from my lungs as I held the door open, tersely asking, “What?”

“I just…” He sounded far away, and I could tell that he still wasn’t looking at me. Was the sight of me leaving that hard to see? I understood; I didn’t want to look at him either right now.

“I need you to know that you aren’t nothing. You aren’t nothing to me.”

I choked on the sob that immediately sprung into my throat, and I bit my bottom lip, trying to contain the emotions crashing over me in this moment. I wasn’t ready to respond yet. I needed more after what he had put me through.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness… But I’m asking for it, anyway. And I need you to know that… that’s a big deal for me.”

My eyes clenched together, my hand shaking under the pressure I was placing on the knob in my hand.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he said through obvious tears, “please don’t leave.”

My hand slid off the handle, and I felt the streams of tears flowing readily down my face. When I turned around, I saw him holding his face in his hand, waiting to hear the sounds of my leaving.

“Okay.” I said softly, causing him to look up and see me red-eyed and frowning. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

I approached him with a quiet caution. He looked at me, briskly wiping the tears still forming. Tight lipped and scared, my voice broke as I conditioned, “But you have to talk to me, Spencer. I can’t do this. You can’t treat me like this.”

He nodded solemnly, his arms seeking me out like a desperate child. Once they were around me, I could feel the way his body shook from the sobs wrecking his body. In a way it was comforting to see him openly displaying emotions, letting them flow from him and into my hands. But it was also terrifying, to see how much pain he was withholding.

“I thought I lost you,” he sighed, the words smothered in my hair. “I-I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

The words wrenched my heart, and it took me a moment before I could hold him back. My hands were frozen around him until they weren’t, settling down against his back slowly at first. But soon we were holding tightly to each other, scared that any antipathy might break us.

“I shouldn’t have told Morgan,” I finally said, the words slurred through tears and his clothes, “I’m sorry, Spencer.”

“Don’t apologize,” he laughed, rubbing against my back with the perfect amount of pressure to be calming and reassuring. “I should just be grateful someone like you worries about me.”

How did he always do that? How did his words make me melt?

Was it the way he tilted my head back, kissing me through the salty tears spilling from our eyes? Was it something in the way our shared breath always tasted sweeter? I couldn’t figure out how Spencer Reid managed to make me feel so profoundly.

I didn’t really care to know, either. I just wanted to feel it with him.

Once the tears had finally slowed, he led me to his bed that was starting to feel like _ours_. Was it possible to fall in love this quickly? Was I wrong to think that this was anything else?

He laid me down on his bed and pressed his lips against my forehead, brushing the hair out of my face before going to climb into bed beside me. I could barely stay awake but wanted to see him lying next to me. Once I could, my heart felt so much lighter. He was smiling despite his eyes remaining glassy.

“Spencer, I-I…” my voice was so soft I thought it might not even be audible. 

“I lo-” He heard me, his hand shooting up to hold a finger to my lips, quietly shushing me with a smile.

“Shhh. Go to sleep, little girl,” he whispered in the little space between us.

“We can talk about it when you wake up.”

Drifting off into that comforting, warm darkness, I mumbled with a pout, “Promise you’ll still be here?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he replied in earnest. 

I turned on my side, holding my hand up to him with the pinky extended.

“Do you _pinky_ promise?”

A warm, full-bodied laugh shook through his body as he grabbed my pinky with his own. He leaned forward as he did it, kissing me once more on the lips. It was an unhurried, painstakingly gentle conclusion to a rather chaotic night. But all that stress melted away with his reply.

“I pinky promise.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The couple has a heart to heart and agrees to start over - the kind of sort of right way. Derek finds out how old Reader is and has some words for his friend. When Reader comes over unannounced, Spencer tells her he’s sick.

You ever experience that weird déjà vu moment where you wake up from a dream just to find something very similar is happening in real life? Like the obnoxious bird in your dream is actually your alarm clock blaring? 

This morning was kind of like that, but better.

I had been having dreams about Spencer ever since I met him. It had actually become a bit of a problem lately, because I would wake up from a wonderful dream longing to see him, only to remember that he had broken up with me.

These dreams could be anything from reliving the night we danced beneath the stars, to the fight, to… something else.

Something like what I was dreaming this morning.

It was the dawn of a new day, with Spencer’s hands splayed across my chest and stomach, pulling me back against him with his breath dancing softly against my neck.

I pressed backwards against him, taking in the warmth that radiated from his body like he was the sun and I was his moon, reflecting any light he could share with me.

His lips tickled as he whispered promises against the delicate skin. The words were nonsense, but what beautiful nonsense they were.

It didn’t matter what he said; I could understand the contrived language all the same. The way his cadence changed as his hips pressed forward, revealing his hardness against me.

His fingertips massaged my tensed muscles like an instrument built purely for his hands. Moving slowly up to my chest, I felt my heart leap into my throat, overcome with how skillfully he shattered my resolve.

“You better be dreaming about me, little girl.”

Those words I could understand, and they were exactly the kind of language that eased me into the reality unfolding around me.

His hands really were kneading my chest, although it was my hips that were rocking back against him, my hands gripping onto his as I took deep, hurried breaths.

“It’s always a dream with you, doctor.” I sighed while pulling one of his hands from my breast, guiding it across the planes of my stomach.

“You’re not very subtle, little one.”

A low chuckle left my lips as his hand began to move on its own. I redirected my own, continuing the trend of boldly showing him what I want.

With a strong grip, I took his manhood into my hand, earning a satisfied groan from the man behind me.

“Barely awake and still so eager to please,” he droned, stopping his hand just before he got to where I truly wanted him.

I groaned in frustration as he removed my hand from him, flipping me over to face him. He had a bright, cheery smile to contrast the cranky pout on my own. 

“What’s that look for? Is it so wrong for me to want to kiss you good morning?”

My face immediately began to flush at the words, my legs tensing together as I tried not to smile.

“Spencer,” I whined, “No, my face is all puffy and I have morning breath.”

It did not dissuade him in the slightest, as he was already propping himself up as soon as he heard “no.”

“Fine.” He said confidently, knocking me onto my back with a gentle shove on the shoulder. Crawling over me with ease, he immediately started to retreat under the covers. 

“I won’t kiss you there, then.”

This time I was far less bashful as he planted kisses down my chest and abdomen, although it still did feel weird to have the attention so directed on me. I wasn’t entirely used to that, although Spencer was teaching me how to get comfortable with it.

There was something about the way he didn’t even pause when he arrived at his destination, his tongue eagerly dragging against my sex. I clutched the covers around me at the sudden and somehow unexpected sensation.

God, I missed him.

It was so strange to think that I was so close to not being here. To think that just last night, I had almost given up entirely. I didn’t _want_ to think about it, per se, but it was like he was _making_ me.

Because his motions were filled with the repressed feelings that had no place in our activities from the night before.

If those emotions were anger, fear, and sadness, this was adoration, longing, and love. His tongue might as well have been spelling the words _I’m Sorry_.

His fingers deftly spread me open for his access, and I cried out as he took his time exploring each inch of me he could reach with that damned smart mouth.

That was nothing compared to when those tricky fingers pressed into me, coated in saliva and arousal. Not being able to see him from above the covers only served to heighten everything I felt.

When my back arched his other hand pressed down hard against my stomach, holding me in place. 

I thought I might actually shed tears when he began to suckle at my pleasure point, his fingers curled up to stroke within me. The feeling of him pressing against my most sensitive spots from both sides overtook any thoughts I might have had.

Instead, all that I could think were praises for the man I was now smothering between my thighs, my hands clutching at his bed hard enough to cramp.

“ _Fuck_ , Spencer!” I yelled, my hips now squirming beneath his grip. He did not budge, although his tongue began to move faster against me now, excited by the prospect of driving me over the edge.

I could almost hear him laughing at my foul language and desperation, but the sounds were actually just hums against me. The vibrations caused a ripple effect, spreading a wave of spasms throughout my entire body.

He nursed my orgasm, drawing it out for as long as he could before I reached that point of hypersensitivity. Once I had, he removed his mouth. The deep breaths he drew breezed over my heat, drawing out my whimpers from the sensation.

Unable to do much else, I stayed spread out on the sheets while waiting for him to join me once more. When his head poked out from under the sheets, I shot him a woozy, lovesick smile. 

“Did you miss me?” He cheekily inquired, dragging his nose against the side of my jaw as he settled over me, his forearms caging me underneath him.

“Always,” I growled in response, my hands wrapping possessively around him.

I guess I wasn’t far off with considering his actions as an extension of his apology, because he never even gave me the opportunity to return the favor.

As soon as he was able, he sunk into me with a sated groan, savoring the way my hips instinctively knew to move to meet him.

He had to stop for a moment before he could even fully breach my entrance, his entire body shuddering at the sensation of my walls clinging to him, trying to draw him further into me.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, “Daddy missed this tight little cunt.”

Pride swelled in my chest as he struggled to move and stretched my body to its capacity. I moaned loudly for him, a free demonstration of how pliable I was in his arms.

I would do anything for this man if it meant I could be with him _just_ like this forever.

Despite the foul language and overt strength in his following thrusts, I could still feel the warmth and love radiating from him. His body draped over mine was not just to keep me here with him, but to protect me from the world around him.

Safe in his arms, small, pathetic mewls sprung into my throat, showering the space between us with the unintelligible pleas.

With another deep thrust of his hips, he propped himself up to look at my flushed, wanton face. Knowing that we were too far gone in each other to worry about morning breath, he pressed his lips against mine.

The chaste, tender touch was nothing at all like the pounding of his hips. Somehow, I found my hands and brought them to his face, lightly running them down his jaw as my head tipped back. Still, I tried to keep eye contact with him.

“You… You’ve ruined me, Spencer” I rasped. He responded by rolling his hips into me, taking his time to pull out before slamming back into me with full force.

“I’m yours,” my words more like a beg than a confession, “I am _yours_.”

This time when he brought his lips down, the intensity matched our lower halves well. Frantically and with purpose, we poured our entire souls into the heated clashing of our bodies. 

I bit down on his lower lip before gasping into his mouth, feeling his member begin to pulse within me. The warm, welcoming pressure of his seed filling me took over any other sense.

“You’re _mine,_ ” he responded with just as much raw emotion. 

My body thrust me into another orgasm at way his words burned without offering me the slightest amount of choice. Not that I would have fought it.

Spencer’s mouth closed on mine again, despite me being unable to contribute much to the kiss as I fell apart under him.

He gave a few more powerful thrusts into me despite finishing first, driving his essence even further into me before holding himself fully sheathed within me.

In the afterglow of our bliss, his eyes locked with mine in the close proximity. Eyes filled with reverence and regret, he swallowed the doubts and anxiety clear on his face.

“I’m happy,” he cautiously whispered, “happy that you’re mine.”

The realization hit me harder than I thought possible, transporting me back to the night he had whispered those words while drifting off to sleep. 

I didn’t say anything, understanding that this was his way of admitting that he had lied to me before when he said he didn’t remember. Because he had remembered.

He was just… scared. Just like I was. We still were.

Finding that our lips had been kissed raw, I opted to rest my face against the crook of his neck, taking great pleasure in feeling his pulse eventually settle back into normal rhythm.

But at the same time, I could feel our spirits growing restless despite our physical exhaustion.

“I think it’s time.” He grumbled, slightly removing his body weight from me. I just whined about it all, with no words in particular.

“I know,” he sighed, “but…”

Then he said the words we both knew were true.

“We need to talk.”

Despite saying we needed to talk, we stayed relatively silent as we gathered ourselves to prepare for the day… or even just this conversation.

I don’t even know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I found when I came out of the bathroom. Among the papers strewn about on the floor, Spencer was sitting and shuffling through them.

I hid around the corner like that would stop him from seeing the very visible other half of me. For a moment it worked, as he was too absorbed in reordering the documents to even notice me.

But when he did, he sighed, setting the papers down beside him.

“Come here.” He called, running his hand through his hair before attempting to sit up straight. His extended leg to the side made it difficult for him.

I sat cross legged across from him, my hands shoved in my lap and my eyes avoiding his face. 

“You’re going to help me pick this up.” 

Uggghhh. This is the worst. Can I take back making him a Daddy figure?

“Stop pouting,” he announced despite the distinct lack of pout on my face. “I can hear you whining in your head.”

He wasn’t wrong. I hated how good he was at that.

“I don’t know what any of it is… or where it goes.” I said while picking up and glaring at a single sheet of paper very obviously written in a foreign language. 

“That’s not why we’re doing this.” He shot back, earning a confused stare from me.

“We’re doing this because… because I want us both to feel this. I want us to remember what it was like having to… pick up the pieces.”

The paper in my hand looked different to me now. It wasn’t just a sheet of paper that needed to be put in order. It was a reminder of what got us so angry that it led us to the floor.

It was the way he told me I was nothing, and the fact that I believed him.

It burned in my hand, and so I dropped it, looking up to see the way he looked at me with eyes filled with sympathy and regret.

“Are you sure you’re not just punishing me?” Yet another joke to try and avoid the tense emotions suffocating the air in the room.

“(Y/n), I… I need you to understand where I was last night before I came to get you.” 

I’m not sure I’d ever heard him sound so serious. The low tone and volume of his voice, and the way he took his time saying the words, drawing out the pauses to ensure I heard each piece.

“I had just gotten back from a case. A case where… young women were being killed. And they just… they looked _just_ like you.”

He wiped his face, stopping to rub his eyes like he was trying to forget the images he had seen. The ones that looked like me.

“Do you understand how hard it was, not being able to call you and hear your voice?” His voice grew louder, the grip on the paper in his hand tighter.

“To be able to see you? To _hold you_? I—“ He took a deep breath before he could continue.

“I _never_ want to feel like I can’t reach you again.”

Tears formed in his eyes, but fell from mine. The pain bleeding in his words said through a tensed jaw _hurt_.

“So yeah. Maybe it is a little bit of a punishment,” he mumbled without much thought. “Because I need us _both_ to remember how badly it hurt to have you hate me.”

I took his words carefully, and began to pick up the scattered belongings. The words I wanted to say felt heavy in my mouth. I could anticipate his response already, but decided they were worth saying. Even if they were quiet.

“I never hated you.”

He scrunched his mouth in a half frown that wavered with his voice.

“You should have.”

Unable to handle that sight for much longer, I crawled over to him in the tidier area, grabbing his face in my hands and forcing him to look me in the eyes.

“Never. I will _never_ hate you.” 

He sighed in relief, but it wasn’t entirely convincing. It would take time for me to build that trust with him. I had time.

The rest of the cleaning happened in silence, letting the tension naturally dissipate as we considered the words we had shared.

There were still so many things we hadn’t addressed that I knew would come up again. For example, the fact I have a tendency to break the law and am a _decade_ younger than him.

Those issues felt so minimal right now, compared to the crushing weight of admitting that we even fucking like each other in the first place. That we _want_ to be with each other.

When he went to stand I saw the way his leg faltered just enough to cause him to put weight on his arm against the desk. 

I eyed him suspiciously before asking, “Are you okay?”

He looked at me like it was a ridiculous question, looking down at the papers in his hand as he set them on the desk.

“You mean aside from everything we just talked about?”

I chuckled, but continued. “Yeah, I mean… your leg. You were sitting strange and when you got up you didn’t put much weight on it.”

It was obvious from the way he shifted away from me that he planned on avoiding the question. So I stood up, walking over and pushing him against the desk.

He sighed with a bit of a grin. “Are you trying to profile me?”

I wasn’t smiling now, my hands gently pressing up and down his leg to see if I could stimulate a response.

“Just very observant, I guess.” The words were said at the same time he winced just enough that I saw his eye twitch.

When I went to touch it again, he grabbed my hand.

“Did you hurt yourself?” 

“Yeah, but it’s nothing.”

Yeah, like I was gonna believe that. “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“I was shot in the leg. Sometimes when I overexert myself it flares up.” He dropped my hand, getting up to walk away like it would somehow end the conversation. 

The overly casual, nonchalant way he mentioned being shot was too much for me. I swear I heard my brain short circuiting.

“I-I’m sorry, what? You were… shot?” I stuttered. 

“I’m an FBI Agent,” he immediately replied, tucking his hands into his pockets while looking at me, daring me to say something else.

“Right, but I just—“ but he didn’t want to hear that, either, it seems. Because he interjected, “It was before I met you. It was a couple years ago.”

I held onto my face with one hand, the other on my stomach as I tried to come to terms with all of what he’d just thrown at me.

“Are _you_ okay?”

My response to his question had to be careful.

“I-I just… I forgot how dangerous your job is. I… I don’t like thinking about it.”

It wasn’t careful at all. I failed.

“That’s not really an option.”

He was right, and I hated it. It was awful to think of how every day he leaves me to go to work, there is a strong possibility he’ll never come home.

Or if he does, he comes back… a different person altogether. 

Suddenly I was wrecked by memories of him waking up crying, the way he snapped at me to shut up, and the explosive anger on the phone. I am reminded of all the red flags that already exist. 

And I ignored them. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I can handle it.” I said with a deep inhale, letting go of the bottled up anxiety with a breath. “I was just surprised by it, that’s all. Sorry.”

When he reached out to touch me, I stepped towards him so that it would be sooner, I needed to feel him. What I really wanted was a hug, but he wasn’t done looking into my eyes.

“Don’t apologize for worrying about me.”

“Sorry,” I laughed nervously. His raised eyebrows told me I had done it again, and I closed my eyes with a smile, sighing. “Reflex.”

My eyes were still closed when he narrowed the gap between us and placed a tender kiss on my lips. I could smell the familiar coffee brewing in the apartment, filling my lungs with his morning routine.

I kissed him back harder to express my gratitude to the universe that I got to be here again. He had come home, and he had brought me here, too.

“(Y/n),” he whispered as he broke the kiss, his eyes still closed as our foreheads touched. 

“Did you mean it when you said you would be mine?”

His eyes remained shut as he waited for my answer. I know this because I paused, opening mine to look at the giant fool of a man in front of me.

“I am _already_ yours.”

Gently and with caution, he opened his eyes to be greeted with my smile.

“Are you asking me to go steady, Dr. Reid?” I joked, enjoying the way his face lit up with a bubbly and jovial laugh.

“Yeah, I am.”

Standing on my tip toes, I brought his face down to me to kiss his forehead. I thought of all the wonderful things that brilliant mind gave to me before placing another on his lips.

“Then I accept your challenge.”

— _The Following Monday_ —

After (y/n) agreed to be mine, the rest of the weekend went by in a blur.

I couldn’t spend the whole time with her, but every moment that I could, I did. It’s hard to explain what it’s like to be with her.

If I had to, I think it would be like triboelectric charging. I would be the negatively charged rubber band to her positive silk.

I don’t mean to be crass. The friction I’m speaking of isn’t purely physical, although it certainly has been a hallmark of our relationship so far.

Each time she touched me I would find myself taking in pieces of her. Except instead of electrons, they were the sound of her laughter or how she sounds when she calls my name, echoing inside the darkest portions of my mind.

There was just something about the way she looked at me. Like there was something worth seeing. She touched me like I weren’t just a tool at her disposal. Like there was something of worth within me.

When (y/n) kissed me, I found myself unable and unwilling to stop myself from kissing her back.

But see, that’s precisely what I’m worried about. Because if I’m the one with the higher affinity, what does that mean for her? 

The law of conservation of charge dictates that there is a finite number of electrons between us.

Am I using her? Depriving her of her most precious and valuable pieces, and therefore forcing her to cling to me like a static filled sheet? 

I can’t think about it too much.

Because for now she is mine, and she seems relatively happy about that. More than I would expect, anyway.

It had been awhile since I showed up to work without feeling absolutely terrible and I’m certain that everyone noticed. Not that I wasn’t good at keeping secrets – I actually think it’s one of my strengths, despite what people may think – it’s just that I have been in a really, _really_ bad mood.

That’s why I couldn’t be surprised when Morgan immediately approached me, asking me to meet him for lunch later. I knew there wasn’t a good way out of it, so I just accepted. I was sure I’d regret it later.

And I did. Because we had barely sat down at the restaurant when the questions started.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened this weekend?”

I sighed, staring down at the menu for a moment until I finally responded, “What do you mean? 

“You’re in a good mood.”

An interesting way to imply something happened. I understood what he meant, but I didn’t want to make it easy for him. I’m not exactly a big fan of people being involved in my personal life. Especially not right now.

“Okay? Would you prefer I wasn’t?”

“Something happened this weekend. You haven’t looked this happy in ages.”

It was important to remember, though, that he had also been hurt by the team just as much, if not more than me. I don’t know how he handled it so well.

He blamed himself for Emily’s death for so long… he watched her dying in his arms and they let him believe that.

I tried to focus on the current conversation, because as bad as I felt for him, I have a feeling I’m heading for a chastising.

“It hasn’t been that long. And I’m not acting any different.” A bold lie, but whatever.

Luckily the server interrupted us for long enough that I could try to decide just how pissed off he would be if I lied to him.

His reply seconds after the man left gave me my answer.

“Yeah, right. Not buying it, pretty boy.”

He wouldn’t if he was any good at his job. Staring at a crossroads, I decided to give in. At least, give in a little.

I gave another heavy sigh before mumbling under my breath, “I saw that girl.”

“(Y/n)?” He looked surprised. To be fair, so did I. “How do you know her name?” I shot back.

“She told me.”

“ _Of course she did_ ,” I muttered with equal frustration, running my hands through my hair. 

Side note: I need to teach this girl how to talk to profilers before the team gets anywhere near her.

Speaking of, how long can I hold that off without her getting upset? Shit. Probably not long.

“So I’m guessing she wasn’t as insignificant as you said before.” His voice distracted me from the train of thought that I very much should be paying attention to.

“No, she’s not.” This was the first full truth I’d given yet, and I have to admit it felt pretty damn good.

“Do you like her?”

I thought about my response for a minute, feeling the smile creeping across my face as I did.

“Yeah, I do.”

But he wasn’t smiling. In fact, he seemed troubled by my response, which felt significantly worse.

“… Are you sure?” He asked with that narrow-eyed glance that made me feel like I had given the wrong answer.

“What are you implying?” I know he didn’t actually think I was confused about my feelings. That meant that there was something else that made him concerned about my feelings.

He’d only known her for a couple of minutes, how would he know whether I should like her?

“Reid, isn’t she a little young for you?”

Here we fucking go.

“Excuse me?” My arms crossed in front of me in a textbook defensive maneuver, and I tried to stop them. It didn’t work, and I ended up just leaned forward on the table staring at him with anger building in my features.

“She’s twenty. That’s _barely_ an adult.”

“How do you know how old she is?” Did she tell him that, too? Jesus, I need to talk to her about this stuff for this exact reason. But no, she wouldn’t tell him, right? 

“I didn’t, but now I do.”

Well shit, never mind, apparently I’m the one who just fucked up. This girl made me stupid. 

But that still didn’t quite make sense. See, she doesn’t hold herself like a twenty-year-old at _all_. She stands way too confidently to be a typical young adult.

He himself had already guessed she was 25, which was also where I had pegged her on the first night that I met her. Granted, the context (and wishful thinking) helped.

So why did he know to guess her _exact_ age?

“I swear to god, Derek, if you looked her up—“

He cut me off, “Reid, how did you even meet her? You said it was at a bar.”

Fuck, I forgot I told him that. Regardless, “It wasn’t a bar.”

“Was she drinking?” A good follow up… That I do not have an excuse or half-answer to give.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was agreeing to a goddamn interrogation when I agreed to go to lunch with you.”

It was a bad move to be this defensive and evasive, because it immediately gave him his answer.

“So she was?”

I dragged a hand over my face, trying to find any excuse that might make this better. Because as frustrating as it was that he was doing all this, I wanted him to like her.

“I don’t want to talk about this with you right now.”

Despite me leaving open the possibility to discuss it later, he did not take it. Understandable, I know why he’s doing this. I just hate it.

“Did you know how old she was?” 

That answer was kind of easy? Depends on when you’re asking. If you’re asking before I kissed her and decided to go home with her, the answer was easy.

“ ** _No_**.” But if you’re talking about before we actually had sex?

“That sounded way too defensive.” Yeah, that checks out.

“As soon as I found out, we… left.” _God,_ that sounded terrible. Okay, maybe I should have gotten ahead of this thing. But there was just a lot going on at the time.

These excuses weren’t going to help me now, though.

“Together?” He practically shouted, a shocked look on his face. Like he was a perfect person.

“Spare me the lecture,” I barked while holding up a hand. For the most part, I’d left myself out of his love life. I just wanted him to do the same. Especially since I’m not doing this all the time. It was _one_ time. Just one… extended time.

“Did she know you were law enforcement?”

 **Fuck**. Of course he knew all the questions that I was also worried about that night. I shouldn’t have told her. I should have just left her at the nightclub. 

God, I don’t mean that. I don’t regret that at all. And I didn’t want to lie to her. Especially not about something that important.

“Not… _Yes_ , she knew but-”

He immediately started to laugh in that sarcastic, paternal way.

“But it wasn’t like what you’re thinking!” I tried to reason, but he shook his head, leaning forward to me as I backed up, dropping my head backwards to avoid the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Hold up, let me get this straight.”

Here we go.

“You were out drinking, and you meet a girl. You find out she’s twenty years old, and then tell her you’re a law enforcement agent.”

Does he really think I didn’t go through all of this that night, and every single time I’ve seen her since?

“And then you take her home with you?”

My third sigh of the afternoon led to him concluding with, “You’ve got to know what this looks like, Reid.”

Of course I fucking do. But if he’s going to act like I’m an idiot, I’ll let him say it himself. “What does it look like, _Derek_?”

“It looks like you’re taking advantage of a teenager!”

Well, I know it doesn’t make it all that much better, but he did give me a technicality to call him on. “She’s not a teenager.”

He was getting annoyed. “Oh, this coming from the guy who used to lecture me on how the brain doesn’t fully develop until age 25?”

Yeah, and I fucking told her that, too! If only he could have been there to understand what actually happened. Then again, I’m sure I wouldn’t have trusted him if this situation were reversed.

But you know what I wouldn’t do? Lecture him! So, if he wants to do this, let’s make up for lost time.

“What about you, Derek? What about all the girls you’ve taken home over the years? Did you check all of _their_ IDs?” 

“This isn’t about me,” he deflected, “I’m not trying to date those girls.”

“Ha! And that makes it _better_?”

Yeah, I got him here. He immediately backed down, his arms dropping to his sides to mirror my own body language. He stared at me for a minute, no doubt seeing the fact that although defensive, I wasn’t that upset by what I was saying.

I was more upset by the fact that he was prioritizing things wrong. He wasn’t asking if she and I were happy. He didn’t know anything about her.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Reid.”

“Well, don’t worry about it. I don’t need your help with that.”

He nodded solemnly, like the realization finally hit him that the only reason I was fighting so hard was because I cared about her.

“So tell me about her, then.”

“Why?” It honestly surprised me. Before I divulged any more information about her, I wanted to make sure what he was going to do with it.

“If she’s dating my best friend, I’d like to know about her.”

Right. That makes sense, I guess. Although, again, I’ve never done this with any of his girlfriends. I guess he figures that mine are rarer. That’s fair.

“We… we weren’t dating. We just started.”

A clever grin tugged at one side of his face, writing ‘ _I told you so_ ’ over his face. “You don’t know anything about her, do you?”

“I know enough.” That sounded even worse than everything I’d say before. Because he’s right. I don’t know anything about her, and it took me this long to realize it.

But did it really matter? I mean, I know some of the worst parts of her personality and I still like her. What could she possibly tell me now that would make me not want to be with her?

“Are you sure about that?” That question again, huh?

“ **Yes**.” My answer was sure this time, and he thankfully recognized that. 

He gave me a sympathetic smile as he spoke this time, “She seemed like a sweet girl.”

“She is. She… she makes me…” I couldn’t come up with a word to finish that thought. He tried to help by offering, “Happy?”

But that wasn’t right, either. My face scrunched up as I tried the word out and decided on a better ending.

“A better person.”

That made us both happy, and I was glad to see that he really didn’t have any reservations about her besides how I might be taking advantage of her. I guess I don’t need to teach her how to talk to profilers.

“What was the fight about?”

Ah, fuck. I grimaced at the question, rubbing my eyes as I laughed. “A lot of things. Me being stupid.”

Morgan feigned shock as he sarcastically replied, “Now, I _never_ thought I’d hear you say that.”

“You apologize then?” He asked after a pause.

“Yeah…” I mumbled, fiddling with my cup and menu. I needed him to understand how important this was to me without sounding like a lovesick idiot (which, I was).

“I know it doesn’t seem great. I get it. But…”

I held my hands up from the items, holding them steady against the table as I looked up at him.

“I really like her, Derek. I can’t just let her go. I have to try.”

“Alright, man. I’m on your side.” He assured me, reaching out and placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I always will be.”

“Thanks.” 

And I meant it.

— _That Friday_ —

It had been less than a week since I’d seen Spencer, but it felt like a lifetime. Now that he was officially my boyfriend it felt like the honeymoon phase all over again.

At least, it felt that way to me. Spencer seemed distant these past few days, though. Not like he used to, but in a different way. Like something had happened he didn’t want to tell me about.

Then again, maybe he’s not allowed to. I don’t know. Days like these I hate his job.

On my way home from school I’d decided to stop by his place. But when I called him on the phone, he mostly just seemed bothered. Like I’d ruined his plans.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed that he seemed displeased by my presence. I know it was unexpected and kind of late, but I was trying to do it to cheer him up.

He seemed so… far away.

Writing it off as jet lag when he insisted he still wanted to see me, I tried to seem as excited as I had been when I knocked on his door. 

He didn’t answer it. Instead, I heard a muffled voice call out, “Come in.”

The room was pitch black when I entered, and I almost went to turn on the light. I realized he left it this way for a reason.

My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, but I didn’t go to the figure I saw sitting in a chair across the room.

“Spencer, is everything alright?”

We had promised not to lie to one another. We also promised to be more trusting. I needed to accept whatever answer he gave right now. 

“Yeah…” he grumbled in the least convincing way as he switched on the lamp beside him.

“I just think I’m coming down with something. I’m not sure. My head is…” He trailed off, his hand shielding his eyes from the light just as much as it massaged his temple.

He looked like he was in so much pain. I approached him at a moderate pace, hoping that I might think of something to do before I reached him. I couldn’t, so I did the next best thing.

“Is there something I can do to help?”

He grimaced at my words, even spoken at a low volume. “ ** _No_** ,” he fumed, not so much angry at me as at the situation.

I’d never seen him like this before, and I was already not a fan. I was crouched in front of him, looking up at him with my hands on one of his knees.

“Can I touch you?”

Pondering my words for a moment, he finally lowered his hand, those beautiful lashes flickering as he tried to adjust to the light.

“ _Yes_.” It was not permission; it was a request. One that I was glad to accept. So I hurried behind the chair, my hands smoothing over his shoulders as I began to work the weary yet tense muscles.

He sighed a breath of relief as I continued, his head rolling to one side as my fingers pressed against the knots that had formed from days at a desk.

“Fuck.” He breathed, reaching up to hold my wrist for just a second before falling away again.

I recognized the way his legs shifted open, his hands gripping his thighs before flattening his palms again. My touch was doing more than just relax him, I suppose.

That’s why I wasn’t surprised when he spoke.

“Come here, little girl,” his words were slurred and low as he beckoned me to come back around to him with a slight movement of his fingers.

As I did so he clarified his request with a pat on his thigh.

“Sit on my lap.”

I gladly obeyed, mounting him so that I could face him, and enjoy the way I could look him in the eyes before he kissed me.

His mouth was desperate, and his hands clutched me like a feral beast would its first catch after a long winter. I complied fully, granting him the little release I could.

But it was clearly not enough, as frustrated, pained pants rolled from his mouth and his lips trailed to my neck. Rocking my hips against him, I could feel how badly he wanted me.

His erection strained against his pants, and I certainly wasn’t helping. But I couldn’t control myself. He was positioned so perfectly against me.

There was something holding him back before now, but it was quickly fading into nothing as he pulled my shirt to the side and scraped his teeth against the soft skin of my shoulder. 

I rewarded the action with a small whine, my hips moving more excitedly now. He breathed hard against my neck, seemingly drunk on the way it felt to be close to me like this again. 

“Daddy _needs_ you, little girl.”

The words hit me like gasoline on a flame, feeding the desire already burning deep inside me. I could hardly breathe, my lungs filling with the smoke of our hunger. 

“ _Please_ ,” he all but growled against my neck, “let me use you.”

There was something thrilling and intoxicating in the fact he was begging me for something that he so often took as offered. He knew that he could have me at any time, so why was he asking? 

I wanted to know.

“Yes,” I said with a low moan as he held my body down against him as my movements in his lap continued, “ _Take me_.”

“I need you to listen to me first.” That gentle, touching tone returned as he pulled me back by the fabric of my shirt. His tongue swept over his lips in an attempt to slow down his words.

“If I start to hurt you, you **have** to stop me.”

Oh, _god_ , I’m so fucked up, I thought as the words immediately caused heat to bloom between my legs.

“I can take it, Daddy,” I cooed, resuming the eager grating of my sex over his own arousal.

“You don’t have to,” he said insistently, holding my face firmly forward to make sure I looked into his eyes. I felt the power behind his words as he said, “There is only **one** way you can fail me, and it’s by letting me hurt you.”

If his previous warning had turned me on, this instruction melted me into nothing. 

“Do you understand me? Do **_not_** let me hurt you.”

With a small, self-effacing nod, I gave him the confirmation he needed. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as hips hands shifted to grab hold between my legs with one, the other on my arm. 

I was a little surprised when he stood, relatively effortlessly flipping my body over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. There were no words between us as he brought us back to his room.

Something about the way he carried me like dead weight made my heart beat erratic.

The force with which I was dropped on the bed was enough to shake my resolve, not to mention the way he immediately and roughly grabbed my legs, dragging me to the edge of the bed and flipping me onto my stomach.

I clutched at the sheets in an attempt to retain some sense of balance. When I turned to look over my shoulder at him, I saw him already working at his pants. His shirt remained on, and he barely lowered his bottoms to reveal himself.

“Turn around and put your face down,” he commanded, and something in his voice told me that I shouldn’t dare try to be a brat right now.

So I listened, dutifully turning back to face the bed, lowering my head so that it hung above the sheets. The first thing I felt was his hands yanking my shorts and underwear down as I lightly kicked my legs to try and get them to fall off.

He didn’t seem to care. His thighs pressing against mine was the next noticeable sensation. I closed my eyes, my breath short and nervous as I tried to keep my eyes forward.

But then his hand was wound in my hair, and Spencer’s tone morphed into something even darker than before. 

“I said put your face **_down_**.” Suddenly, it was forced against the mattress, and I turned slightly to the side so I could still breathe, taking a desperate gasp of air. 

“I don’t want to see your _fucking_ face.”

I’m _so_ fucked up. My only reaction to the words was a whimper, my legs pressing together tightly as they sought out friction to pair with his words.

We’d been rough before, but this was an entirely different version of the man I knew. The weight he put on my head should have frightened me, not excited me like it did.

That was still nothing, though, compared to the way he slammed into me without any warning at all, eliciting an actual, honest to god scream from me. The sharp pain from the sudden intrusion quickly faded, and the immense pleasure I took in feeling him take charge of my body washed over.

But it was like he knew that, and he timed each of his thrusts to coincide with the lack of pain. Soon each time he plowed forward into me, I couldn’t help but cry out, my hands clenching the sheets to try and stop my body from sliding against the bed from the force he exerted.

The hand that was in my hair pulled it taut while simultaneously forcing me into the mattress, and I struggled to breathe around the sheets. I was beginning to understand why he made sure I knew I could stop him.

I didn’t want to. Because despite the way he forced me to endure the pain, it didn’t _hurt_. It was invigorating, the way I shook like a ragdoll underneath him.

Not only was this my opportunity to feel what it was like to lose control, to have someone else responsible for me, it was also my opportunity to physically share whatever Spencer had bottled up. 

And _god_ , was there rage.

His hand holding my hips back to keep them where he wanted dug into my skin so hard I could have sworn his short nails might draw blood. My entire lower body was shaking each time he pressed himself to the hilt inside me. I was being pushed to the limit.

When his hand released my hip, I thought it might be to give me some relief.

It was not.

He switched which hand was knotted in my hair, which led to my head rolling backwards from the arch of my back in the absence of pressure. Surprisingly, he let me keep it up for a moment. Of course, it made sense seconds later when he lifted my entire upper body with the new grip.

The new position meant that I struggled to reach the sheets. I swore I heard him laugh at the way I moaned in a mix of pain and pleasure as he hit against my cervix. 

“Do you feel that, little girl?” He whispered cruelly in my ear, and I felt tears sting at my eyes at the brutal overstimulation. Still, I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to feel the true, unreserved power of him.

“All it would take is _one_ mistake and you would be stuck with my child forever,” he chuckled, an absolutely ravenous rasp to his words that tore through me with an even sharper sensation than his cock buried in me.

“Have you _really_ thought this through? I could ruin the rest of your life. Do you _really_ trust me?”

My eyes rolled into the back of my head, my mouth hanging open in a desperate attempt to breathe. My body was so hyper-fixated on the burning between my legs to even notice his other hand coming up to my neck.

“ **Answer** **me** ,” he ordered while his hand tightened its grip, meaning that it would be hard to speak even under normal circumstances. There was no way I could answer him right now and he knew that. Which is why he was still laughing at the pathetic mess of a girl in his hands.

“Is my cock fucking your tight little cunt too distracting for you?”

I tried to nod, but ended up choking on my spit, leading him to release his grip ever so slightly, letting me take a few full gasps of air.

“What if I just…” his arm dropped down to my waist, pulling my hips as far down against him as he could, letting the rest of me fall and hang forward, held up only by my hair and the spot where our bodies were joined. 

“…Stop?”

My hands reached down to his arm around my waist, just so I could have something to hold on to. He let go of my hair, causing me to drop down face first into the sheets, my whole body squirming in his grasp.

“ _Please,_ ” I whimpered, my hands now scrambling to settle between my legs, seeking my own release that had felt so near for so long.

“Please what, little girl?”

“ ** _Ruin_** **me, Daddy!** ” The guttural cry that tore from my throat must have even surprised him, because I could almost hear the smirk on his face as he replied.

“One of these days, I will.” This time he lowered himself to press his chest against my back, and I finally managed to reach my touch starved center.

“I _will_ fuck a child into you. So you better be _real_ careful, little girl.” He was grunting through his words, his hips moving once more in short, concentrated bursts.

I couldn’t respond any longer, all of my energy focused on frantically chasing my own orgasm as he neared his own.

“ _Or else_ … that day will come sooner than you think.” 

Just like that, he bottomed out in me, his firm member pulsing wildly as he emptied himself against my cervix at the same time I finally found my release.

I was lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, the heat, and the struggle. It was altogether dizzying, without even mentioning the way he moaned in my ear at how my body readily accepted everything he had to offer. 

Barely able to breathe under the weight of him, I gave a soft mewl to signal that I was ready to move. Luckily, he understood the command, rolling onto his side and pulling me with him. Still, I pulled away from him, not sure I could stand having him inside me much longer without falling apart.

He retreated with a grunt, sweeping his arm over to pull my body flush against him as he did. I didn’t squirm now, completely helpless to whatever his hands commanded. 

“Stay with me for a little longer,” he pleaded against my hair. 

I felt the way his pulse fluctuated, trying to return to our previous states. There was no objection from me, laying with him for some indeterminable amount of time.

His skin against mine was no longer scorching, settling into a comforting warmth. His hands that had gripped me hard enough to bruise now hovered over me like I would shatter at their touch.

He still recuperated much faster than me, planting a kiss on the top of my head as he left. 

“Stay here.”

Once again, I initially obeyed, but mostly because I couldn’t fathom moving yet. Although after he took longer than I was expecting, I could feel evidence of our actions dripping slowly between my thighs. 

Shifting down, I tried to find the ground with trembling legs. It didn’t work very well, leaving me half leaning on the bed when Spencer finally returned, shaking his head at the sight of me unable to stand. 

“Still not following directions.”

When he got to me he dragged a warm washcloth up my thigh. I sighed at the way it bled into my suddenly cold, clammy skin. He cleaned me carefully, like he were trying to clean dust from a delicate flower.

Once he got enough from my legs, he wrapped his arms around my thighs and lifted me back onto the bed. From there, his hands trailed down one of my legs. I just watched quietly, enjoying the way he worked the tired muscles of my thighs as I had done for him earlier.

I kept myself propped up, wanting to see the way he worshiped the body he had just finished brutalizing - And worship was the only word that would adequately describe what he was doing.

When he started his ascent on the other leg, he seemed lost in his ministrations. Almost as if he had forgotten that I could see the way he dragged his lips across my inner thigh, breathing in the way my skin smelled after he forced us together.

“ _Dulcius ex asperis_ ,” he mumbled against me.

My eyebrows raised, my eyes sparkling with fascination at the foreign words. Did he know what happened in my dream? Did I predict this somehow?

“Speaking Latin to me, Dr. Reid?”

“ _Ita_.” He remarked with a cheeky smile.

I rolled my eyes at the equally foreign response. He placed my leg tenderly back on the bed, sitting down next to me as I finally let myself fully fall back onto the mattress.

“Do I get to know what it means?”

He traced his knuckles up and down my jaw, fixing the stray pieces of tangled hair that were matted against my skin with sweat.

“Just know it’s a reminder of how it feels to have you.” He vaguely replied.

I wanted to grab his hand, but I couldn’t. I think he could feel that though, because he took the time to begin to massage my arms the same as he had my legs. Watching him with blatant adoration, a thought crossed my mind that I needed an answer to.

“Did I help?” His answer was almost immediate. “ _Yes_. Thank you. I’m so proud of you.”

Readjusting my body, he pulled me up to rest my head on the pillow and tuck me under the covers. The softness of the actions alone brought me energy to wiggle in my place.

Flashing a sunny smile, he leaned down to kiss my cheek.

“Now let me look at my beautiful little girl.”

I would have, but he immediately began to attack my face with more quick, chaste kisses from my nose to my chin.

“Show me your smile,” he urged, his hands coming up to cup my face as I began to giggle from the way he tickled me in both a figurative and literal sense.

That was his sign that it was safe to stop, and once he did, he knocked our noses gently against each other as he announced, “There she is.”

For a moment I thought that he would kiss me, but he didn’t. He just stayed there, staring deep into my eyes as I smiled, his face full of reverence and desire.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He spoke to me like a prayer, “You are… everything.”

“You’re… the metaphysical impossibility of beyond infinity,” he extolled, his eyes barely able to stay open like he was staring into the sun when he looked at my face.

“I don’t know how you exist, or why _I_ get to be the one that holds you.”

“But you do.” I stopped him, my hands finding the energy to move to place my fingers over his lips.

“I do,” he said against them like he had just realized it, “And I would do _anything_ for you. Do you understand that?”

“I do.”

Continuing to gush my praise, his hand on my face struggled not to hold me too tightly. He kissed my fingers that then dropped his lips. 

“As long as you are mine, I won’t let _anything_ happen to you.”

He laughed as he saw my pinky rise up between us, and he took it with a grin.

“Yes, I pinky promise.” 

It wasn’t a fair promise, I know. There were so many horrible things that had happened or could happen that he wouldn’t be able to stop. But I knew that this was important to him. That he needed to feel like he could protect me.

I certainly wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

The way he kissed me then was so pure that I almost forgot the way he had ravaged my body not thirty minutes earlier. The filthy words he had spoken seemed so far away compared to the gossamery sweetness I was experiencing.

But one more thing did burn in my mind that I wanted to ask. Something I had brought up before that had fractured our budding relationship.

“Did you mean it?” I asked between kisses. He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he undoubtedly replayed the horrible words that he had used in the heat of the moment. 

Since I knew he was stuck on the fact he had refused to see my face as he used my body, I shook my head no.

“Not that,” I explained, taking only a little pleasure in the way he was able to breathe easily again.

“Do you… Do you really want me to have your child one day?”

Just like that, he couldn’t breathe again. I could see all the words vacate his mind, some animalistic desire inside him rearing to the forefront of his mind.

“I-I don’t know… I-I’m not… Why?”

The anxious stammering was such a dramatic contrast to how confidently he had told me before. I had to giggle, intertwining our fingers as I hummed. I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer his question.

The longer I took to answer, the more frantic he seemed. Deciding to cut him some slack, I clarified, “I don’t mean _tomorrow_ , Spencer. But… like you said. _One day_.”

“Y-you think you’ll still be around?”

It was that moment that I remembered how deeply insecure this man could be. Here he was, staring at the woman that just openly let him use her for whatever he desired… asking if she wanted to be with him.

“If you’ll have me.”

“ _If_?” He said, his teeth shining under the dim light of the lamp. It didn’t matter how dark the room was around us – he always shone so bright.

“(Y/n), I… I don’t know when it happened but. At some point over the past 155 days, 4 hours, and…” he looked over at the clock on his bedside table, earning an entertained smile from myself. “37 minutes.”

I laughed even harder now, grabbing hold of the collar of his shirt to keep him close to me until he finished.

“I gave you my heart. I don’t know when exactly. But it happened and… I’m not sure I can take it back anymore.”

My heart stopped in my chest. He had all but said the words we were both dancing around. The moment wasn’t right yet. We were still too scared. 

So instead, he just joked, “Even if I wanted to. Which… I don’t.”

“Yeah, you can’t have it back,” I muttered under my breath, “It’s all mine now, you dirty old man.”

When I pulled him down into a kiss, he only reciprocated for a moment before turning away.

“Yeah, about that. We’re going to have to… address… the whole decade age difference at some point.”

I sighed as I let go of his collar, pushing him lightly away from me as I rolled so my back was facing him.

“Tomorrow,” I whined, burying my face into _my_ pillow on _my_ side of the bed. “I’m exhausted”

My eyes were closed, my breath evening out quickly as I reflected on the past few moments. But the love I felt reminiscing was nothing compared to the love Spencer pressed onto the top of my head with a kiss.

“We’ve got all the time in the world. I’m not in any rush.”

As I heard him shedding his clothes and climb into bed beside me, I happily mumbled back, “G’night Spencer.”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer is distracted when Reader insists on eating her lollipop in the movie theater. On the way out, the couple runs into Derek and Penelope. Jealous!Reader makes her first appearance. Spencer reminds her who he picked.

Fun fact about me: I cannot understand Russian.

Why would I go to the movies in the middle of a Saturday to watch a movie in Russian, then? Well, my very adorable boyfriend insisted that I go with him.

Sure, there are subtitles, but truthfully, I wasn’t planning on watching much of the movie, anyway.

Unfortunately, Spencer seems hellbent on _actually_ watching the film despite us being literally the only two human beings in the theater. Who does that?

Well, granted, he is a little bit annoyed at me right now. See, when he arrived to pick me up I might have taken my teasing a little bit _too_ far. It was kind of part of the plan.

As I left my apartment, I could already see the entertained frustration on his face as he spotted me through the window. I was wearing a baby blue sleeveless, yet collared, crop top, paired with a similarly colored pair of high waisted shorts.

Get it? I was _literally_ dressed like Lolita.

Needless to say, he both hated and loved it.

‘ _No way_ ,’ he had said with a sarcastic laugh, ‘ _You better go change if you want me to take you anywhere_.’

I pouted, feigning shock at his response. ‘ _But babe, you said we were going to see a Russian film. I’m a young girl going out with her much older date. It only makes sense_.’

He licked his lips as he looked over my body, unable to contain a smile. ‘ _This is cruel and unusual punishment_.’

I took it as an invitation to enter his vehicle, and he didn’t stop me, that smug, pissed off grin still on his face.

‘ _You’re comparing me to a_ ** _literal_** _pedophile._ ’ He whined, and I rolled my eyes.

‘ _It’s a_ ** _joke_** _. You’ll be fine. I’m an adult._ ’

‘ _Sure you are_ ,’ he joked. ‘ _Sure you are, little girl_.’

But to make him more comfortable, I did put on the Caltech sweatshirt I had brought along. He eyed the fabric in my hands, almost like he was surprised I still had it.

Once the large heather blue crewneck swamped my figure, hiding any hint of midriff, he was much happier to continue on our way to the movies.

So anyway, I’m pretty sure that’s why he’s insisting on watching the movie instead of paying attention to his super cute and very needy girlfriend.

My only evidence that he wanted to do something else was that his large hand had been resting on my thigh for the past hour. Occasionally I would look down at it, then back up at him. He would glance back, but mostly just to chastise me for not paying attention.

My head rested on his shoulder, trying to care at all about what was happening on the screen while I also tried to formulate a plan to force him into paying attention to me.

But that’s when I remembered that I had something incredibly powerful in my purse that just so happened to pair perfectly with my outfit. When I bent over to grab my purse from the ground, I felt his fingers twitch against my skin as it moved underneath his grip.

I didn’t look up at him as he looked at me, instead working diligently to uncover the cherry lollipop I had almost forgotten I had in my purse. As I sat back up, I popped the sucker in my mouth.

At the same time, I wrapped my arms around his arm that was still left at my thigh. I leaned my head against his shoulder, holding onto the stick as I sloppily sucked on the candy.

“I know what you’re doing.” He whispered, craning his head down to me while continuing to stare straight ahead.

I pulled the candy from my mouth with a satisfying ‘ _pop_ ’ sound, holding it in front of me as I replied, “Um… eating a lollipop?

He shook his head, that familiar grin as he licked his lips, still ignoring me as I continued, “Weird observation, Dr. Reid.”

“You know,” he had returned to the quiet tone he took, rather than my much louder one, which was purposeful on his part considering there was _no one else here_. “Despite being used in promotional images, Dolores never had a lollipop in either the film or the novel.”

I tried to pay attention to what he was saying, which took a lot more effort than I was anticipating now that his breath was hot against my ear.

But I was able to, finally moving from my spot on his shoulder to continue to play with the candy in my mouth, clicking it against my teeth.

“Why are you thinking of Lolita, Dr. Reid? You said that was nothing like us.”

That was apparently all it took for him to turn his attention to me, his hand finally showing signs of movement. The pads of his fingers were placing a varying, light pressure against my leg.

“Don’t play coy with me, little girl.”

I smiled at him, running my tongue over the sucker and my lips as I hummed a small laugh. “Don’t you mean _coquettish_?”

There was an audible laugh, although it was still under his breath. He really did not want to be loud for some reason. Maybe it was the clandestine nature of it all that thrilled him.

“Nice SAT word,” he muttered, causing my mouth to drop open from the implied insult. “But I know what I meant.”

Continuing to work the red confectionary with my tongue, I started to pull my feet up onto the theater chair. But Spencer put a swift end to that, his hand firmly pressing my legs back down.

“Sit like a big girl.”

I stared at him with all the pent-up frustration from the past hour of my life, having done everything but outright beg him to do something else with his hands.

“Why? You worried someone will see up my shorts?” I asked, spreading my legs open as I gestured to the empty theater around us. Without saying anything or even looking at me, his hand left my leg just to grab the other, pulling my legs closed.

I groaned, knocking my head back against the seat as I continued to clack the hard candy against my teeth.

“You are absolutely no fun today.”

With a gentle pat on my leg before he dragged it up towards my shorts, he turned to give the side of my face a small, chaste kiss.

“You only think that because I’m not giving you what you want.”

If it weren’t for the frankly charming kiss, I might have had stronger words for him. But instead, I just pouted a simple, “Yeah, exactly. That’s what I mean. Why are you doing that?”

“Because I realized that you only act out because I reward you every time you act like a brat.”

It was a valid theory, and one that probably had a lot of truth to it. Still, I had to fight it or else I wouldn’t be myself. I bit down on the dwindling candy in my mouth, an audible crack resounding in the small theater.

“Are you calling me a brat?”

He glanced over at me for just a second before remember he was supposed to be ignoring me. I guess the sound of me biting into a phallic object was enough to distract him. Noted.

“Is that a surprise to you?” This time when he spoke, he began to drag those slender fingers over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

I looked down at it, fighting the urge to give in to his words just because he was giving me the smallest bit of attention. I crossed my arms, chewing on the fractured piece of sugar in my mouth.

“I am _not_ being a brat.”

Continuing the slow, purposeful drift up my legs, my breath began to waver. The thing is, his movements didn’t match his words. Which meant that if I give in to him, there’s a strong likelihood he’s still only going to tease me.

“I very strongly disagree.”

And just like that, he began to move back down my leg, proving the very point I was convincing myself of in my head.

My hand wrapped around his tightly and I could see him trying not to laugh from my peripherals. He was _definitely_ teasing me.

But that’s not happening today. No, I was going to win today.

“You want a brat, motherfucker?” I sneered, tossing his hand off of me before slinking down in my seat until my knees hit the horribly carpeted floor of the theater.

“Quite the opposite, really,” he said while clearing his throat, readjusting quickly as he noticed where I was going. He was getting nervous now.

“Liar. You love when I’m bratty.” Scooting over on my knees, I pulled his knee out of my way, finding my way between his legs on the floor.

“What are you doing?” He asked, even though I think we all knew the answer to that. When my hand reached up to undo his pants, he stopped me.

I sighed, looking up at him with a very sarcastic smile.

“I’m being a fucking brat.”

Continuing to struggle past his hands, I was a bit surprised that he let me start to undo the button and inch down the zipper.

“Get off the floor.” His words would not trick me. He wanted me here, because if he didn’t, he would have stopped me by now.

He got me on the very public Metro - this is much safer for him.

I sang the two words that every brat knows, “ _Make me_.” 

“You know I can.” He glared at me from his spot above me, his hand releasing my wrist and going up to smooth down the hair that had fallen from my ponytail.

“Yeah, but you’ll have to pick me up and I’m _covered_ in movie theater germs now. Your call.” See, this is why you don’t tell me that you’re a germaphobe. As soon as I hit this ground I knew he wasn’t going to come anywhere near me.

“Fine.” He acquiesced, raising his hands in sarcastic surrender, “Do whatever you want.”

There was a cheery smile on my face as I propped myself up on his legs, my hand dipping into his pants to free his straining member. And he acted like he didn’t like it when I was a brat.

I didn’t respond yet, waiting until after I had run my tongue flat against his erection, stopping at the top to take his head into my mouth. His hands twitched in their position on the armrest, but he didn’t make any other sign that it affected him.

I released him with a similar, gratifying ‘ _pop_ ’ that I had made before with my lips, finally replying with a sure and sultry, “I _will_.”

From the way he was going back to ignoring me, I knew his new game plan. He was going to act like nothing was happening to prevent me from feeling like I had power over him.

But that was a mistake. I _already_ know I have power over him.

I hoisted myself up further, my forearms digging into his legs as I began to take him into my mouth. His thighs tensed under me, his chest barely starting to rise at an increased pace.

He was not as good at this as he thought he was. I’d barely started.

My mouth sank down on him an inch at a time, my tongue swirling around the underside of his cock as I went. His hips began to shift, canting forward towards me.

My hands were on his lap, although one moved forward to take the base of him in my hand. It would be hard to take in all of him at this angle, so I would have to improvise.

But still, I was able to get him to hit the back of my throat, and I gagged lightly. I didn’t have to see him to know it was the closest he had come to moaning.

My tongue followed the veins running up and down the length of him, and I applied a gentle suction as I began to pull back. It was pointless to open my eyes, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to see his face.

I bet he was banking on that, too. I could picture him now with his mouth hung up and his head tilted back.

This was unlike the first time I was able to give him oral, since before he had all the control. I didn’t even have my fucking hands. Granted, it was a lot easier for me since he did most of the work.

This time I got to set the pace, and I wasn’t here to play games. I’m not sure how much longer the movie would last, but I would make this man come undone at my hands (and mouth) before it was over.

I was taking my time, dragging my mouth up and down him, trying to allow him deeper into my throat with each motion. But alas, the physics of it all wouldn’t allow me to take him all the way.

If he stood up, I would be able to…

But I’ve got to hand it to him, it was super frustrating not getting virtually any feedback about how I was making him feel. The best part about doing this was knowing that I could make the man putty in my hands. I don’t get to do that often with a dominant.

Going slow wasn’t working, so I began to pick it up, bobbing my head the fastest I could without losing my breath. Each time he hit the back of my throat, I would begin to choke, but leave it there.

“ _Fuck_.”

It was the first thing I’d heard, and it was quickly followed by a light groan. That was when I knew that I had to slow myself to a virtual stop.

So I did. Hollowing my cheeks once more, I took my time slowly dragging my lips back up him. Once he had almost entirely left my mouth, I began my descent, just as tantalizingly slow.

This time, though, I also began to share my own enthusiasm in the form of low, long moans against him. That was enough, it seems, to get him to move his hand.

It didn’t do much, just landing on my head, but not doing anything once it got there. His breath was audible now, continuing to increase in direct correlation with the weight of his hand.

But that only encouraged me to go _even_ slower with my groans even louder. Over the stifled sounds, I could hear him suck in a sharp breath.

With one swift motion, he wrapped his hand around my hair and pulled me entirely off him, bending my head back to look at him.

“Be a brat, fine.” He barked, his jaw clenching as he tried to speak. “But I will _not_ tolerate you being a tease.”

I gave a cheeky grin before he could lower my face once more. I was ready when he did, my mouth happily accepting him and sinking back down onto the familiar length.

Now he controlled the pace, similar to how he had before. I made a mental reminder to myself to tease him about the fact he can’t be out of control for more than a few minutes without needing to take it back.

I wonder how far I could push that.

At a much faster pace and his hips now thrusting up into my mouth, I was satisfied. My only goal was to make him do something, and I succeeded.

Tears stung at my eyes and spit began to trail down my chin as he held me down, his member pressed hard against the back of my throat.

I wanted to choke but knew that I shouldn’t as he began to pulse within my mouth, the hot, briny liquid shooting into my throat. I rewarded him with one final moan at the sensation, hearing the distant sounds of music as the credits began to roll on the screen behind me.

When he released my hair, I sprang back up, taking a hard swallow before a large gasp of air. He didn’t acknowledge me at first, spending the time refastening his pants as I cleaned my mouth.

Upon trying to stand, my knees immediately buckled. They had taken on a pretty shade of pink from the friction of the carpet, but it was worth it.

He caught my body with one hand, preventing me from falling on top of him. However, he didn’t push me off, and instead he let me lower a little bit further, giving me a small kiss on the lips that had just been wrapped around him.

For a second there I thought he was going to praise me, but it was quite the opposite. Through a tooth achingly sweet smile, he murmured, “You’re _such_ a brat.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes as I stood up myself, rubbing any residual popcorn pieces and dirt off my knees.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, “You are _so_ ungrateful.”

He was laughing behind me as I grabbed my purse off the floor, ready to high tail it out the theater. Before I could pass him, he had grabbed my wrist, pulling me back to him.

“You should have done it earlier.” He vaguely reprimanded me, sliding his free hand up my inner thigh as I stood in front of him. My legs immediately started to close around his hand as it reached the edge of my shorts.

My eyes fluttered shut as he continued his ascent, his finger ghosting over the center seam of my pants.

“If only you hadn’t wasted your time teasing me. We might have had time.”

I would say I was breathing, but it was more of wanton pants mixed with high pitched whines, his fingers rubbing with just enough pressure to cause a flush in my cheeks. 

“But…” His hand left even more quickly than it had arrived, leaving me with shaking legs and out of breath. “We don’t.”

“I fucking hate you, you fucking stupid son of a b—“ I started, but was cut off by the lights in the theater brightening around us. Ah, fuck, he wasn’t lying.

“Ugh!” With a heavy sigh, I tried to pull myself together at least a little bit. “Well. I need to go fix my hair now. So, thanks for that.”

I didn’t wait for him this time before I huffed out of the aisle. He was taking his time, but I could tell he was still close behind, still chuckling at the fact he successfully got to deny me.

Dick.

I was in such a rush as I turned the corner, I hadn’t even noticed the person walking the opposite direction. My squeak as we nearly collided was paired by her shocked exclamation that sounded vaguely like “jimmy Christmas,’ and I took a jump back.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry!” I nearly yelled, placing my hands up like it would somehow express my apologies for me. The woman seemed like she was about to apologize herself before she got a good look at my state of being.

I didn’t wait to see what she would have to say about my obvious sex hair and smeared eye make-up, having already been thoroughly embarrassed by nearly running into her.

That didn’t stop me from hearing her whisper to her companion who apparently joined her shortly after, with a very loud not-at-all-whisper of, “Damn, someone just got some. Where can I sign up?”

Oh my god, I’m going to fucking die.

Whatever. I’m just going to pretend like that never happened until the day I actually die, which will be the only reprieve I ever get from what just happened.

At least she didn’t sound like she was slut shaming me. She seemed genuinely impressed. If she knew Spencer, I bet she’d be even more so. It wasn’t easy to get that man to let go sometimes.

Once I got into the bathroom I realized why she said what she did. Jesus Christ, he fucked up my hair and I look like a raccoon.

Thankfully bobby pins and paper towels exist, and within a few minutes I was able to look like I hadn’t just had my mouth fucked by my thirty year old boyfriend while dressed like Lolita.

Score?

I’m sure Spencer would get a kick out of this if he had seen it. Maybe I’ll tell him about it later when he says I’ve never done anything for him. I’m kidding — he would never say that (and if he did, I’d kick his ass).

Now in a much better mood and with much better hair, I went to leave the bathroom and hopefully join back up with my dutiful boyfriend.

At least, that’s what should have happened. But this time when I rounded the corner I saw Spencer… with that woman. The one I ran into. And with that woman? I’m pretty sure that’s Morgan, the guy that inadvertently caused our only fight.

Which is when I realized that not only did Morgan know that woman, _Spencer_ knows that woman. And with my luck? They all work together.

Of course they do. I’m going to actually, literally die.

Spencer looked up and saw me with a mortified expression and paired it with his own. Normally I would have been offended he didn’t want me to meet his coworkers, but this time I was exceedingly grateful for his hesitance.

Sneaking close to the wall, I walked over to the nearby bench, hoping that I could wait there for a minute and join him without them noticing. Morgan isn’t the kind of guy who would make me come over there, right?

I’ll just… Wait here.

That was the plan. I cannot stress enough that I was going to do that. But then the woman said something _very_ interesting.

“You here watching the new Lila Archer movie?”

See, what she said wasn’t nearly as interesting as Spencer’s reaction. The high pitched, “Uhhh, no” was enough to set off alarm bells in my mind. The next piece of the conversation, though…

“Did she ever call you back?”

I had almost taken a seat on the bench when I realized what was happening, and stopped mid-movement.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, actually…” Spencer muttered, and Morgan was all too happy to laugh along.

“Don’t you lie to me, boy wonder. I know you two had a thing! That’s way too juicy to just sit on.”

He… _what_? With… _who_?

Now that I stood back up, Spencer saw the movement and immediately winced. Yeah, he knew what was coming.

“We didn’t have a _thing_ , she—“

Poor thing wouldn’t get to finish that thought, because I immediately appeared next to him, wrapping both arms around his.

I didn’t need to look up at him to know the look on his face right now. I could practically hear the way he bit on his lips to distract himself from the way more painful reality.

Which currently consisted of his _much_ younger girlfriend, who just blew him in a theater, introducing herself to his coworkers while they were having a conversation about his apparent ex.

“Hello!”

My voice was cheery as I looked to Morgan’s familiar face first, before turning back to the woman who had seen me before I managed to look presentable.

Morgan looked, for the most part, equally horrified and amused. I’m guessing he realized who his friend was talking about after Spencer followed me out of the theater.

The woman shared the same look. At least I could know that everyone involved in this situation felt the same: fucking awkward.

“Hello!” She said back like it were more a question than a greeting.

“What’s this about Lila Archer? I heard her new movie was great.” No I didn’t. I don’t even really know what it’s about. I don’t care. I’m staring sweet, sweet daggers at my boyfriend.

“Yeah, me too.” The woman replied, staring at me with way too much curiosity and familiarity for someone I’ve only seen once before. It’s like she was trying to read my face.

 _God_ , please don’t tell me she’s also a profiler.

“Do I know you?” She outright asked, and I was a little surprised by how frank and entirely unsubtle she was. She can’t be a profiler. No way. 

“Uhh, I mean. I saw you a few minutes ago but—“ she waved the thought off, returning to her contemplative look from before.

“No, your face looks familiar…”

“I’ve never met you before…” I answered truthfully, looking back up to Spencer for the first time, only to find he was looking at Morgan.

What, the fuck, is going on.

I gripped Spencer’s arm tighter to signal to him to fucking do anything right now. Thankfully, he took it.

“Garcia, this is—“ Although, I immediately took it back upon hearing the way his voice shook and he paused before my name.

“(Y/n),” I answered for myself, “I’m Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“(Y/n)?” The woman named Garcia replied in an entirely different octave. “(Y/n)… (y/l/n)?”

My brows immediately furrowed before I looked up to Spencer who shared my concern.

“(Y/n) the 20 year old student at… That’s not your sweatshirt. You don’t go to Caltech.” She was beginning to rant, but I was still confused as to how the fuck she knows this much about me.

“Morgan, Reid went to Caltech. That’s Reid’s shirt. She said she’s Reid’s _girlfriend_.”

There was so much happening, I’m not even sure which words were said first or by who. It was like a goddamn emotional tornado.

“I’m sorry,” I interjected, holding up a very confused and defensive hand, “How do you know my name?”

She didn’t get to answer me before both Spencer and Garcia turned to Morgan, who immediately bit his tongue before looking away.

“Goddammit, Morgan you son of a—“

“Derek Morgan, you _lied_ to me!”

Suddenly, everyone was yelling. I had apparently set off a fucking bomb with my presence, and I was not prepared for it. Luckily, no one seemed mad at me about it.

“You used me.” Garcia said with a gasp, “You told me it was for a case!”

Her whacking him unceremoniously with her purse was nothing compared to the anger rolling off Spencer to my side, who I was very much holding back with my now vice like grip on his arm.

“You told me you didn’t look her up!” He finally said, wiping the pissed off look on his face like it would melt it away.

Oh, is that what happened? She looked me up?

Wait. _That’s_ what happened?!

The noises around me became very blurred as the world began to spin, and I tried to reorient myself with my surroundings. Just because someone in the FBI looked me up doesn’t mean they know everything about me.

But still, that look on her face…

Does she know?

“Hold up, hold up! Let’s talk about this later. Babygirl—“ Morgan tried to distract at least one of them, since Spencer had reached the point of annoyance that transcended words.

“Don’t you babygirl me, I’m mad at you!” Garcia immediately yelled back, and I have to admit I already like her. Morgan just wrapped an arm around the woman, speaking in a calming tone.

“Okay, well, be mad at me in two hours because we’re about to miss our movie.”

He glanced over to me before the two began their exit. I’m not positive what the look was meant to say, but it seemed like some blend of “ _I’m sorry_ ” and simultaneously, “ _But I’m also not_.”

Spencer’s heavy and furious sigh still wasn’t enough to rip me from the weird headspace I was currently occupying. I needed to know what Garcia knew about me, and whether she had told anyone else.

I don’t have the emotional energy for this shit right now.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n),” my boyfriend began, “I honestly had no idea they looked you up.”

Staring off into the direction they left in, I absently replied, “It’s fine. They were just looking out for you, right?”

He lowered himself slightly to my eyeline, looking at me with that knowing look. “Are you okay?”

“Totally! I’m totally fine.” I lied, still not able to comprehend much of what was going on. But then I remembered the very interesting conversation I had just interrupted.

“Wait, no I’m not, actually.” I said while shaking my head, then furrowed my brows as I asked, “What was she saying about Lila Archer?”

“ _That’s_ what you’re getting out of that conversation?”

Ignoring his poor attempt to distract me, I continued with my questions, “You guys had a fling? When was that?”

Licking his lips the way he does whenever he’s nervous about a response, he took in a deep breath before… holding it.

“Can we talk about this in the car?”

Oh, _interesting_ response, Dr. Reid. I took a step away from him, crossing my arms across my chest. “Why not here?”

“Because it’s weird!” He half-laughed, speaking the truth I didn’t want to hear. Then again, if he _really_ wanted to talk about ‘weird’…

“Spencer I just had to meet your coworker after she correctly called that I ‘got some’ with you in a theater. This is not weird at all in comparison.”

His eyebrows jumped up, his face contorted in a shocked and humiliated, although simultaneously _very_ proud and entertained smile.

“She _what_?”

“Fine.” I responded shortly, starting to leave him behind for the second time in less than ten minutes, “Let’s go to the car.”

Naturally, once we were in the car he had nothing to say. I sat half sideways in the seat, staring at him like my vision would actually burn his skin.

He would glance over at me, but then just morph his lips like he was trying not to laugh. What a dick.

“So, when were you going to mention that you fucked a supermodel?”

“She isn’t a supermodel.” He _immediately_ replied, earning a short, sarcastic chuckle from me. “But you did fuck her?”

“No, I didn’t.”

His answers were too short and way too quick for me to trust him. I narrowed my eyes at him as I leaned my head against the window.

“… Yeah, _sure_.” I mumbled.

“I didn’t!” Spencer defensively squeaked, his hands raising from the steering wheel for a second as he tried to stay focused on the road. Sensing that I was still not believing him, he sighed.

“She called me, but I… didn’t see her. I told her I wasn’t interested.”

“You told a famous actress that you didn’t want to sleep with her?” I repeated with the most monotone voice I could muster.

“Nothing happened.”

I could actually feel my body temperature rise, the anger forming clouds around my face as I shouted, “You’re lying!”

“Fine. We kissed. _She_ kissed _me_. Okay? That was it.”

He said it so quickly and with such little emotion, I had to repeat it in my brain. Wait, they kissed? She kissed him? I mean, I agree with her. Her taste in men is clearly spot on. But still, a famous actress? Kissing him?

How did they even meet? And am I really supposed to believe he wasn’t interested in her? She’s beautiful! And probably more age appropriate…

“Well, now I don’t believe anything you say.” I hastily replied, my arms crossing in front of me as I looked away from him. I knew I wasn’t being entirely rational, and he clearly felt that way, since he seemed pretty amused by my responses.

“Are you serious?” He laughed, “I didn’t even really like her! I was only interested in her because she was interested in me.”

I eyed him warily, watching as he got more flustered, trying to prove his case through a smile. He shook his head again, running his hand through his hair.

“I-I was still pursuing _JJ_ back then!” He finished, exasperated.

With blankness in my eyes with a saccharine smile, I immediately asked through my teeth, “Who the fuck is JJ?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said with a chuckle before licking his lips once more. He looked as far away from me as he could while still looking at the road.

“Oh boy, I can’t wait to hear this one.” I said with feigned excitement, sitting up straight with my hands between my legs as I pulled them up to sit criss-crossed in my seat. “Go on, Spencer. Tell me.”

“She’s my friend.” He said with a brief nod.

“Your _friend_?”

“Yes, she’s just a friend.”

“Funny,” I thought out loud, “that’s what you said about me until a couple weeks ago.”

“Stop that,” he instructed, shooting me a warning glance with raised eyebrows.

“What? I’m just saying.” I said with a shrug, but he quickly corrected me. “No, you’re pouting.”

“It’s fine, really.” I remarked, “I just think it’s interesting that I’ve never heard about this ‘friend.’”

“Yes you have, I work with her.”

Ignoring the urge to rake over everything he’s ever told me about work (and knowing that it would be altogether impossible for me to recognize who he was talking about), I asked with an incredulous tone, “You _work_ with her?”

“She’s married! She has a kid!” His pitch was higher, but I could tell that he was mostly flustered, and a little amused by my frustration. “That chance ended a long time ago.”

“But you still think about it.” Now my insecurities were bleeding through my voice, which was crackling like static from an old television.

It wasn’t as funny to him now, and he reached over to put a gentle hand on my knee, rubbing the skin softly before turning to me for a moment.

“No, not anymore. Not now that I have you. Okay?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to let go of the deep-seated insecurity and fear boiling in my chest. My leg leaned into his touch, but he just as soon took it back, returning both hands to the wheel.

“Does she look like Lila, too?” I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know.

“I know what you’re doing,” he warned, “I’m not answering that.”

“I’m going to find out eventually.”

He sighed, realizing that I was definitely going to stalk her online at my earliest convenience. Speaking of, where is my phone? As soon as I pulled it out, he quickly answered, “ _Yes_ , she does.”

“So you have a type.”

“No, I don’t.” He said it like it was such a simple conclusion, despite the evidence now weighing very heavily in the other direction.

“Yes, you do.” I could feel the discomfort building in my heart. He definitely had a type. And it wasn’t me. I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised, right? He’s basically told me before that he doesn’t do shit like this.

He doesn’t date girls like me. He’s not even interested in us. I slouched in my seat as I recalled what he said about Lila.

‘ _I didn’t even really like her! I only was interested in her because she was interested in me_.’

Was that true for me, too? How long until that’s not enough? Is he already getting bored of me?

I swallowed, biting down on my lip and shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Spencer immediately noticed, and sighed as he put his hand back out, this time taking my hand in his own.

“Do you need a reminder about who I picked?” His tone was soft, but still humorous. He was trying to lighten the mood, which somehow only made me even more annoyed. “Because I _will_ do that for you.”

Rolling my eyes, I mumbled, “No. Let’s just drop it.” He’d probably just tease me anyway.

“You’re just going to ‘drop it?’”

“That’s what I said.” I clarified louder, waving my arm in the air as I let go of his hand.

“Okay, fine,” he said with that same snarky expression. I knew he had something he wanted to say, and after a minute of intense staring at him, he finally spoke.

“What, were _you_ a virgin when I met you?”

I swear, my vision went red. Like, I didn’t think that was entirely possible. But it is. It happened. It was only made worse by the fact he found it _hilarious._

“Do you _really_ want to have just asked me that?” I asked, my tongue pressing hard against the back of my teeth, trying to maintain my composure.

“I’m just saying.” He shrugged, “It’s an interesting double standard.”

I leaned forward, my arms crossed and my eyes so thin they were essentially slits. “You want to talk about _interesting_ , motherfucker?”

The satisfied look on his face told me he was just teasing me, just like he had been _all day_. I swear, he just wants to rile me up so he can calm me back down. But this time it’s like he just wanted to push my buttons to see how they worked.

Leave it to a scientist to experiment by taking things apart and putting them back together again, I guess.

“God, you’re so cute.” He finally spoke, running his fingers down the side of my jaw before returning his attention to the road. “Even when you’re mad. Especially when you’re mad.”

“I fucking hate you.” I spat, throwing myself back in my seat like a child throwing a tantrum. I know he saw me like that, too. He wasn’t entirely wrong.

My own overreaction did cause a smirk to tug at my lips, remembering the way he tenderly stroked my cheek and offered to prove his dedication to me.

He’s not that bad, I guess.

“Sure you do, little girl.” He agreed, looking over and flashing a smile when he saw my own slowly forming one. “You’re _very_ tough and scary.”

“You better look out, Spencer Reid.” I cautioned in a _mostly_ jovial manner, “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Pulling up to a red light, he turned towards me more fully. After a few seconds of just admiring the way my cheeks looked flushed with anger and amusement, he leaned forward to kiss my forehead.

“I look forward to finding out.”

— **_That Evening_** —

My curiosity is, by far, my greatest weakness. I swear, it’s like when you tell me something that will surely end terribly for me, I _have_ to do it.

Which is what led to me falling down a rabbit hole of YouTube clips and newspaper articles about the fucking Behavioral Analysis Unit as soon as I got out of the shower after Spencer brought me home.

Like, I really looked at my naked self in the mirror and said, you know what’s a good idea? Look up the girls that Spencer likes. Used to like? Whatever.

The thing is, they’re fucking beautiful. Because of _course_ they are. And this Jennifer lady? Absolutely brilliant. I’m pretty sure _I_ have a crush on her.

Okay, okay. Calm down.

It’s not working.

Which is why I immediately found a clip of her talking to a camera, maintaining her composure and being the epitome of grace, and texted it straight to my boyfriend.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Spencer?” Was the text accompanying the link. He didn’t take very long at all to reply, almost like he had been waiting for this text all night.

“Oh, I see you found JJ.”

“Yeah, I did, Mr. I don’t have a type.” I shot back, and I could _hear_ the smirk on his face as he read it and started typing.

“I think you mean Dr. I don’t have a type.”

I’m gonna kill him.

Angrily smashing my fingers against the screen, I rolled my eyes at his snark.

“You aren’t cute!”

The next message was much later, and from the preview on my home screen I could immediately tell what was about to follow. I tried not to smile as I opened it, revealing a picture of me and him in his car that I had taken on his phone.

I could’ve sworn I deleted it, but, here it was. Scrolling up, I noted the text he had sent along with it: “This is more my type if you ask me.”

“Fine. You’re cute.” I admitted, typing out a quick second message before he could respond, “Delete that picture. I look terrible.”

“Never. I refuse.” I laughed, the jealousy and frustration from moments before feeling a world away. But still, I wished that I could see him. Because I knew that once my mind started to wander again, I’d be right back where I started.

Just like he always does, Spencer read my mind from miles away.

“Do I need to come over there?” He asked. “You sound like you need a hug.”

With a lopsided smile, I glanced out the door where I could hear my roommate talking on the phone to her mother. It was getting pretty late, and I’m not sure she would exactly appreciate me being annoying all night.

“My roommate is here.”

“So?” Was his immediate reply, and I swear I felt butterflies in my stomach. Ugh, he was so cute.

Next, he followed with, “That’s not the only reason I like to sleep next to you.”

 **Ugh.** He was **so** cute.

“You don’t have to come.” It was an ambiguous answer because I didn’t want to feel needy, but I also really wanted him to come. The fact he was really willing to come over despite me basically saying we can’t have sex just made me melt.

“I’m on my way.”

It wasn’t until I got the message back that I realized how hard that would be. Oh well. I have sealed my own fate (and I’m pretty excited about it, too).

Once he arrived, my roommate had luckily already gone to her room for the night. I told her that Spencer was coming, but she insisted she wanted to leave us alone. I appreciated that, since I’m still not sure he really wants to confront how very different our lives and friends were.

Opening the door, I was immediately reminded of the last time he showed up at my doorstep. Something about the devious twinkle in my eye told me he was thinking the same thing.

“Hello, Dr. Reid.” My excitement bled through my voice, and I was glad when he didn’t wait to envelope me in a hug, muttering his “Hey little girl” into my hair.

“I’m sleepy.” I whined, leaning my body weight into his arms, which he didn’t hesitate to catch.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get to bed.” Similar to the last time we met up late at night, we waddled together towards my room. The giggles floating through the hallway were the worst attempt at hushed, and I’m sure my roommate was already rolling her eyes at our teenage-esque love.

Oof. Can’t believe I just used the word love to describe us. Don’t let that slip yet. We’ve implicitly agreed to pretend like those words don’t exist for now. It just makes it easier.

One of those “let’s talk about it tomorrow” kind of things.

Once we got into the room, I immediately turned to start undoing the buttons on Spencer’s frankly adorable pajama top. But no sooner after I’d undone two, his hand came up to stop me.

Something about the way he looked at me filled my veins with dread. I can’t entirely explain it, but the action sent a chill through my body.

“Come on,” he said with a very unconvincing smile, “let’s just lay down.”

Part of me really wanted to push it, to figure out why he was stopping me from removing a long sleeve shirt. It wasn’t cold in my apartment - it was quite the opposite.

The rest of me told me to push it to the side. Don’t think about it, because you might find things you aren’t ready for yet. My curiosity never works out well for me.

So I didn’t. I stripped down to just my underwear, enjoying the way he soaked up the image of me in my nighttime routine. He climbed into my bed, turning to his side to prevent me from climbing on top of him.

Probably a smart move.

My mind was still reeling, but I tried to grind it to a halt. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t want to be naked, or even have sex. He’s here, and that’s what matters.

Sliding under the covers next to him, I just kept scooting backwards until my body was situated against every nook of his. He hummed happily as he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me even tighter to him.

“I’m so lucky,” he whispered into the night. I shifted underneath him, my legs sliding against the soft fabric of his pants. A small sound of displeasure escaped me, and Spencer sighed.

“What is it?” He knew what I was going to say.

“You’re wearing too many clothes. I need skin to skin contact.” I whined, earning a chuckle and some very accurate wisdom from the man behind me.

“If I do that, you won’t be able to control yourself.” His breath was hot against my ear, and I almost actually moaned in response.

“Is there a reason you w-want to stop me?” I murmured, rocking my hips back against him, noticing the thick bulge forming underneath his pants.

“I thought you were tired.” His hand that had wrapped around me was now gliding up to my breast, kneading it softly in his hands.

“I said I was sleepy, not tired.” I replied with a soft mewl, putting even more of my body into each movement against him.

“Oh, sorry,” he scoffed, “ _sleepy_.” Despite the snark, his hand retreated to between our bodies, unclasping the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

“I was but…” his hand returned to my chest, now toying with the neglected breast, “then you were here.”

“Mhm…” he cheekily hummed, burying his face in my hair as he tried to keep his voice down.

“What do you want, little girl.” It wasn’t a question; it was an order.

“I want you to touch me.” I cooed, grabbing his hand with my own to try and get him to grab me harder.

“I’m already doing that.” He pointedly stated, “I think you want more than that.”

“Fuck me.” I panted, my backside now fervently grinding against his erection.

“No.” It was a simple answer, and my least favorite to hear. “Why not?” I demanded, having to check my own volume as I did.

Which is why I couldn’t argue with Spencer when he said, “You’ll be too loud.”

“No I won’t!” I yelled in a hushed tone. His finger came up to my lips now, pressing gently against them as he dared, “Prove it.”

“How?”

Almost like he was waiting for me to ask, he took my hand in his and guided it down to my sex, leaving my hand flat against it.

“Show me how you touch yourself.”

“W-what?” He couldn’t be serious. Like, okay, I’ve definitely done it, but not with an audience! And why would I? He’s _right here_.

“I’m positive that you’ve done it at least once since we shared this bed together…“

Again, he’s right - but I don’t want him to see me like that! “S-Spencer…”

“I’m not going to do it for you again until you show me.” Wait, does he mean like right now, or ever? Because that’s totally unfair if he means the latter.

“But…” My plea fell on deaf ears.

Using his fingers to manipulate mine, we began to sink two fingers into the slickness that had formed between my legs. I was already giving quiet whines at the way it felt to be touched, even by proxy.

“That’s my good little girl.”

I took in the praise, now freer to move my hand where I wanted now that I’d broken the proverbial dam holding me back.

My fingers dipped into myself just enough to gather more natural lubrication before switching my attention to the small bundle of nerves eagerly awaiting my touch.

Spencer’s voice in my ear took a darker tone. “Are you remembering how I fucked your throat then held you down and took the rest of you?”

Well, now I am, I thought. I remembered the desperate need to touch him, and the bruises the cuffs left on my wrists for days.

“Or maybe you remember being fucked against the counter out in the kitchen, instead.”

God, I think of that often. I could almost feel the way my stomach bulged with each thrust forward and remember the thrill of realizing what he was fantasizing about.

His hand traveled across my body now, and he laughed a bit as he realized what both of those situations shared in common with the present.

“You do love being taken from behind, don’t you, little girl?”

I couldn’t control the way my hips bucked in response, insistent on feeling him, even if he wouldn’t contribute more to the end I was chasing.

“Are you getting close already? You must have really missed me,” he teased as he used his hand to pull himself out of his pants, lining up at my entrance.

“I can help with that.”

Every nerve ending in my body lit on fire as he began to thrust into me with an agonizingly slow pace, stretching me out inch by inch, testing my reaction.

“Oh, _god_.” A tiny keening exclamation. The arrogant bastard replied, “It really does feel that way, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t stop,” he ordered as he noticed my hand faltering as my orgasm rushed closer. I pressed my head back against him, arching my back as he began to pound into me as hard as he could without shaking the whole bed.

I wanted to cry out, but I couldn’t. I wanted to _scream_. Memories of the last time he fucked me, wild and violent, filled my mind.

God, what I wouldn’t give to let him lose control on me again. But this quiet secret was good, too.

My toes curled as I listened to the sloppy sounds of our bodies joining, the musky scent of sex filling the room. I choked on a moan as he gave a few quick, rough thrusts.

He must have known that I was close, and so he continued with the staccato beat of his hips, and soon enough my face was contorted in a silent scream as my release hit me.

I heard him stifle a groan in his throat, biting his lip as my muscle contracted around him. Through clenched teeth he spoke.

“Look at how eager your body is for me. It’s practically begging me to fill you up.”

Dizzy from the orgasm and his words, I was still able to tilt my hips back towards him, trying to meet him wherever I could.

“Please… p-please, Spencer.”

“Begging,” he chuckled, “Just like that.”

Biting back a moan, I sobbed out a few more words. “Please, I can’t—“ That strong, warm hand clasped over my mouth and nose so quickly and so tightly I could hardly breathe.

“Shhh, be quiet,” he ordered. “You don’t want her to know what I’m doing to you in here, do you?”

My eyes were rolling to the back of my head, my body stiff as my muscles tensed, trying not to scream his name as he continued ravaging my body.

“What would she think, hm? If she heard how much of a whore you are for me?”

It felt like my stomach was twisted in knots, and the thought triggered the realization that we were in a similar position to the ones before.

Scrambling for his free hand, I placed our hands on my stomach, recognizing the way it protruded with each thrust forward.

“Oh?” He thought out loud with a very enthused chuckle. “You can’t even get through one night without begging me to flood your tight little cunt.”

This time when he buried himself in me, he held it, loving the way I trembled and squirmed around him. My stifled moans were weaker now from the lack of oxygen.

My body begged for the movement he seemed all too ready to deny. The frustrated moans trying to escape between his fingers weren’t changing his mind.

I’m not sure if it was the way he pounded into me now, slightly shaking the bed frame, or the way his breath felt hot against my ear, but I found myself teetering on the brink of release once more.

Once I finally collapsed in on myself like a dying star, every muscle in my body spasming and my choked sobs turned into nothing, Spencer whispered a few last words to me.

“You asked for it, little girl.”

With that, he followed through on his promise, filling me with the warm release my body had begged for. My hand stayed rooted on my stomach, feeling him move inside me as he gave a few final thrusts.

I hadn’t realized how little air was in my lungs until he removed his hand and my lungs burned as they filled. Our bodies were sticky with sweat and the cocktail of our combined essence that slowly leaked from where we met.

Spencer didn’t seem bothered by it all, taking his time relaxing behind me, breathing in this moment with ease. Beside him I just tried to ask my legs to stop shaking and my heart to stop pounding.

I swear if I hadn’t moved, he would have fallen asleep just like this. My muscles were as exhausted as my mind, and I felt the creaking of my joints urging me not to move.

“Spencer,” I slurred as I tried to inch away from him, but he held onto me tightly. “I have to get up.”

His words were muffled among the pillows and the back of my neck, but they sounded vaguely like, “Will you come back soon?”

There was something childlike and entirely innocent about the way this man clung to me. I hadn’t really seen him like this before. I wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with it. A lot of me wished that I could stay but knew that a UTI was _not_ worth it.

“Yes, love.” I assured him as I finally escaped his grasp, slipping out from under the covers and grabbing a robe.

In the bathroom I found myself staring in the mirror while trying to fix the hair matted to my skin from sweat. Glancing at the door, I wondered if he had already fallen asleep.

My heart was fluttering with the thought of what just happened when I tried to leave. The usually confident and proud Spencer, the one that had spent the whole day teasing me, held onto me like I would disappear from his grasp.

Is he okay?

Would he tell me now, if he wasn’t?

I tried not to think about it. We promised to be honest with each other, and I needed to trust his answers. Even when that answer is silence. But that doesn’t mean I can’t ask, right?

It’s late. We should talk about it tomorrow.

When I came back in I was surprised to see he was still (albeit barely) awake. He had obviously gotten up and cleaned himself up but was now sprawled on his back on his side of the bed.

I snorted at the sight of him, his arm laid over his face like the very dim light in my room was just too much for his eyes.

“Now who’s sleepy.” I teased, climbing into the bed beside him and curling against him, my back to him.

“Oh, now you’re ready for me to hold you?” He laughed, “You’re not going to try to get me to fuck you again?”

“Stop complaining,” I grumbled, “You had fun.” I reached back to grab his arm and place it over my waist. Eventually, he complied with a gentle admission.

“I always do.”

Although this time his hand rested against my lower stomach, where it had been a few moments earlier. My ears burned at the thought, and I tensed my stomach for a moment before forcing the muscles to relax.

Why was his hand there? He wasn’t saying anything, and his breathing was already evening out, hinting that he was still on the brink of sleep.

“Spencer?” I asked, my hand ghosting over his as his fingers pressed heavier on the skin, just enough to make the motion purposeful, but not enough to hurt by any means.

“What’s on your mind?”

I know he heard me because his breathing ceased, but he didn’t seem to want to answer.

“Are you alright?”

Playing with the sleeve of his shirt, I recognized that he was still wearing it despite working up a literal sweat, and I tried not to let the fact bother me any more than the rest of his behavior.

“I’m fine,” he said softly, “I’m just tired.”

His hand didn’t move, and I didn’t make him. I thought about asking him more questions, making him tell me what was on his mind. I decided it wasn’t worth it. He would tell me in time, I’m sure.

So instead I just let myself enjoy what it felt like to be here with him. To be curled up in my bed with his hand holding on tightly to me. I reveled in the childlike innocence he displayed in his sleep, clinging to his favorite toy.

When he fell asleep behind me, I listened to the sound of his breathing and felt the way his heart drummed against my back. I tried not to think about all the ways those things could go wrong. All the ways he could be taken away from me.

I listened harder for his breath, like it would stop if I didn’t. But that’s ridiculous. Because right now, everything was alright.

Right now, he was with me.

But how much longer will that keep going? I had asked myself earlier if he was growing bored of me, but what if it’s something worse? I tried not to think of the reasons someone would be ashamed to show their girlfriend their arms.

I feel my heart shattering as I recall all the signs I’ve been trying to push down. I can hear the disgust in his voice as he asked if I was high, and the way his face wavered when he assumed that I wouldn’t share what I had taken.

Bile rises in my throat as I think of the way a sheen of sweat formed on his brow as he sat in the dark, telling me he was sick. My body shook with pain at the rage that was woven in the last time he touched me.

 _Please, Spencer_. I begged him in my head.

 ** _Please_** _, not that_.

It took every ounce of strength in me not to pull his sleeve up his arm as he slept. My fingers wrapped around the sleeve, tears at my eyes drowning me in my own paranoia.

My curiosity always wins. I always lose.

“Go to sleep, little girl.”

The stern, erratic sound of his voice caused goosebumps to ripple over my skin, my breath catching in my throat as I clenched my eyes shut.

“It’ll be okay.”

I wanted to ask what will be okay, and when it will. I wanted to ask him so many things.

But I didn’t.

I just let out a shaky breath, my hands leaving his sleeve and joining his hand on my stomach instead. I clutched onto him like my life depended on it, slowly relaxing as his thumb began to lovingly stroke the skin.

“I’m here.” He said like he needed the reminder himself.

“It’ll be okay.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer can’t talk to Reader when she calls him on a case because he doesn’t want the coworker sharing a room with him to know. Jealous!Reader really shows up this time. Reader finds something terrifying in Spencer’s figurative and literal closet that explains why he’s been so sick.

I hadn’t seen Spencer in fucking forever. This was the worst.

 _Why are there so many goddamn serial killers?_ That was a normal question for a college student to ask on a Wednesday night, right?

I stared at the time on my laptop for a good minute before I decided it was late enough to try to call Spencer. It was two hours earlier where he was, so it wasn’t the middle of the night.

He had told me that he had made it safely, but I hadn’t heard from him since. It wasn’t likely that they had been at it for 12 hours straight, right? They had to sleep eventually.

The phone rang at least three times before he hung up on me. I looked down at my phone, waiting for a text to follow, telling me where he was. Or maybe a call back after a few minutes when he could step away.

Neither came. So I waited another five minutes, then called him again. Same thing— it rang three times, then nothing.

Okay, well now I really wanted him to answer the phone.

I tapped my foot on the ground, chewing on my bottom lip as I tried to decide how annoying to be. On the one hand, he was doing his job probably, so he was busy. I shouldn’t get in the way of that, right? Like, stopping serial killers is a pretty high priority.

But also, I wanted to make sure he was okay and wasn’t working himself to death. It was like 11pm where he is.

I went to call again, but I _finally_ got a text message. It made me happy until I actually read it. All it said was “Can’t talk.”

Okay but like… why. So that’s what I texted back, “Why not?”

“Sharing rooms.”

Wow. What a nondescript response. Honestly, he could not have given me less information if I had specifically requested him to.

“With who? Morgan already knows about me.”

At this point, I had done my research. When I went down the rabbit hole trying to find out more about JJ, I had learned about the other members of his team. Including the super weird woman who was brought back to life after faking her death.

I should probably ask Spencer about that sometime? Maybe not.

“Not Morgan.” Okay. That was a really long response when he could have just told me their name. Now I was a little bit paranoid and a whole lot of annoyed.

“Are you rooming with JJ?”

Those little dots popped up, then disappeared. Then popped up… and disappeared. Well _that_ answered my question.

“YOU’RE ROOMING WITH JJ?” I then sent again, with emphasis. He was either typing a lot, or erasing what he had. Ugh, this is the worst. Why would he room with her? It was weird!

“Don’t freak out.”

Okay, well now I was just mad. I immediately started calling him, which I then proceeded to do five more times after he kept hanging up on me. Eventually, he would have to do something about it. I wanted to see which something he picked.

On my sixth call, I got his voice.

“What are you _doing_?” He sounded kinda mad, but not nearly as upset as I was. “What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing? Why are you sleeping with her?”

“First of all, I’m not _sleeping_ with her. I’m _rooming_ with her. And it’s because she asked me to! We’re best friends! It would be weird if I didn’t!”

I tried to do one of those deep breathing techniques to calm down, and was surprised when it sort of worked. Might also have something to do with the fact that he had eventually picked up, though.

“I don’t know her. It worries me.” It was the simplest way to describe what I was feeling, other than just flat out saying _I’m jealous_.

He sighed on the other end, then spoke very clearly, “You have _nothing_ to be worried about. Nothing.”

Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I tried to feel otherwise. I couldn’t. It sucked.

“I have to go. I left the room, but I have to get some sleep. If I don’t answer, it’s because I fell asleep. Not because something nefarious is going on. Okay?”

What a really weird way to phrase that, but okay. He was just an idiot. I knew this about him. Still didn’t stop me from responding with the first thing that came to mind.

Which was, “That really sounds like something a guilty person would say, Spencer!”

“Stop that,” he ordered, and I could tell he was actually kind of annoyed. Pretty sure I’m more mad, though. “I’ll call you when I can. I promise. Now go to sleep, it’s 1am where you are.”

“Fine!” Tapping my foot harder on the ground, I glared into the phone. “Hang up on your girlfriend to go sleep with another girl.”

Except I didn’t let him hang up. Doing it myself first, I rolled my eyes as I looked around the room. See, I wasn’t exactly happy with how that conversation went.

I did trust my boyfriend, and I knew that it was highly unlikely that he would do anything. I was pretty confident that he was going to go off to bed and think about me.

But just in case he wasn’t going to do that, I could make sure he would. 

——

It had been a long day, and I could not have been more ready to lay down and go the fuck to sleep. Of course, though, that isn’t what happened.

As soon as (y/n) hung up I knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it. I was half expecting her to just keep calling me in five minute increments until she made up her mind.

Some deeply insecure part of me figured she would try to get me back by going to see her friend from before. She wouldn’t do that, would she? I mean, I guess it would be pretty similar to this. Except I didn’t even know that she liked that guy.

It had been about thirty minutes and JJ was already laying in her bed, half asleep. I was sitting up with the light on beside me, trying to focus on the words in front of me as an excuse to still be awake.

It wasn’t that weird that I couldn’t sleep, aside from the fact that I looked exhausted. I just knew that I shouldn’t go to bed yet. Heaven help me if she did do something stupid _and_ I don’t reply.

She would never cheat on me. I knew that. This was the worst. I should have just answered her call. Should I have lied to her about who I was rooming with? No.

Although it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve lied to her.

The sound of my phone buzzing against the bed alerted me that she had made a decision. I sighed, picking it up and turning my legs so they hung off the bed away from JJ. If she was going to call, I’d have to leave the room fast.

But when I opened the text, I was completely unprepared by what I saw. Taking up a third of my screen was a picture of my girlfriend, sitting on her feet on her bed, clearly taking a photo of herself in a mirror.

That alone wouldn’t have been a problem, necessarily. It was more the fact that she was wearing almost _nothing_.

All she had on was the tiny lace negligee she had worn the first time I came to her apartment.

I shut the picture almost immediately, but could still see it clear as day in my mind. It morphed with the memories I still had of that night. I could see her kneeling in front of me, with those cute little lips wrapped around my—.

Fuck. This was her plan and I was falling for it.

I looked down to see an accompanying text. “Do you know anyone with an extra set of handcuffs they can use on me tonight?”

Ah. She’s really going full brat now, huh? I guess I deserve that.

I went to reply, trying to hide my phone the best I could as I sat on the bed, also hiding the erection that had already formed from the second I thought about her in that damn little outfit.

But before I could even type two words, another picture appeared on my screen.

And Jesus _fucking_ Christ, she had turned around this time, lifting the back of the fabric up to expose the curves of her hips and her perfectly sculpted ass.

Naturally, just like the night I saw her, she’s got nothing else on.

“I get it. You’re upset. Stop. You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

 _Please, god, someone teach this girl about the dangers of sending half naked photos via cell phones._ At least her face wasn’t in this one.

I spoke too soon.

Because seconds later, there was another photo. This time, her face with an adorably devilish grin as she held her breasts together with one hand, now sans negligee.

“Trouble, officer? Never. I’m a good girl.”

Ha ha. Okay. I did not want to get another photo like this.

I turned around to see JJ laying down, watching me out of the corner of her eyes.

“You okay, Spence?” She finally asked. I didn’t really have an answer that made any sense.

Like, oh yeah, JJ, I’m fine, my 20 year old girlfriend just won’t stop sending me half naked pictures because she’s mad we’re sharing a room after I told her I used to be in love with you.

I didn’t think that would work.

“Yeah, I have a bit of a headache though. I think I’m gonna try to shower.”

“Okay,” she shrugged, “I have Advil somewhere if you want it.”

“I’m good, thanks.” I didn’t stick around any longer, immediately heading to the bathroom. Once the door was shut, I looked down to see yet another picture coming in.

Good lord, I was going to kill her if I don’t die first. I didn’t even want to look, but I knew I had to.

Before that, I tossed a towel at the bottom of the door, running both faucets in the bathroom to try and drown out the sound before I called her. Only slightly surprisingly, she hung up on me before the second ring.

Right. Of course she did.

I looked down to see yet another photo, this time of her stomach and hips, her hand nestled between her legs, her fingers clearly inside her.

“Sorry. My hands are full.”

I felt like I was going to explode from rage and lust and something else entirely. Admiration? Pride? Not sure.

“Answer your phone.”

Dialing her number again, I heard a very amused yet annoyed voice answer.

“Hello, Supervisory Special Agent.”

I bit my tongue, listening to the way her words were followed by the tiniest giggle. She was fucking with me, and it was working.

“Did you enjoy my pictures?”

“What is wrong with you?” I shot back, my words still hushed behind the sound of water. I know she could hear it, but she didn’t say anything about it.

No, just, “That’s very rude. I think I look rather cute.”

“You do,” I admitted, running my hand through my hair as I tried to remind myself that she’s just a twenty year old girl, doing what girls her age do.

“And I’d very much like to make sure I’m the only one who gets to see you like that. Do you know how easy it is to hack a phone? The Bureau could get these pictures in less than 10 seconds.”

She giggled in that way that turned my stomach and made the hair on my skin rise. That coquettish little devil of a girl.

“Are you worried Jennifer might see? Do you think she’d be jealous?”

I let out a breath, trying not to fall for any more of her games than I already had, sitting on the floor of a hotel bathroom trying to keep my voice under the sound of rushing water.

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

Like pouring gasoline on a fire, I somehow made it worse. Not only did it fuel her, the flame followed the liquid back to the can I was holding.

“Or are you jealous cause someone like Morgan might see? Am I more _his_ type than yours? Can I have his number? I bet he’d like these pictures.”

My knuckles morphed to tight-gripped fists, my jaw clenching hard enough that I thought my teeth might crack. She knew exactly what she was doing, and I couldn’t stop her. Because I was far as fuck away, stuck in a bathroom.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, desperate for her to honestly give me something I could reasonably do.

“Company,” she cooed somewhat sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, rubbing my brow to try and release the tension building in my face. “I can’t give you that right now.”

She was laughing again, and I could literally picture that self-satisfied smirk she always had when she was getting her way.

“You already are.”

The next sound that came through the phone was a long, drawn out moan that told me she was definitely (hopefully?) alone in her apartment. I wish I could say it didn’t affect me, but it did.

I couldn’t even stop myself from grabbing the bulge in my pants, trying to relieve the feeling of endless pressure. But I couldn’t. The only thing that would truly satisfy me right now was 1,665.75 miles away.

Through heavy breaths and clenched teeth I still managed to growl, “I already told you that I will not tolerate being teased.”

“Too late!” She sang through her haze, “Mm, _Daddy_ , it feels _so_ good.”

Her moans were more plentiful now, and I could hear the way her mouth shifted as she bit on her lip, soft mewls and pants into the phone. I had touched her enough to know what made her react like that.

My memory is now a curse, playing all of the memories of me touching her all at once. I didn’t even notice the way my hand was stroking myself through my clothes.

All I could think about was how she felt like silk and tasted like honey.

“Stop it now or I will hang up.” My muscles tensed as I said the empty threat, my hand now already working on undoing my pants to try and find some reprieve. I was going to need the fucking shower by the end of this.

“That’s no fun,” she whined, “You should join me instead.”

I didn’t know if she had read my mind or just heard the motion on my side of the phone, but she had to know what was happening right now. It didn’t stop me from denying it, though.

“I’m not doing that.”

There was a pause, and then a very confident and alluring, “… Yes, you are.” Continuing with that seductive, commanding tone, she explained, “I can hear it in your voice.”

“No.” Not entirely sure what I was saying no to, but she didn’t even try to determine it. She knew what was happening. She knew she had me wrapped around her tiny little finger.

The finger on the same hand that I desperately want to be where mine is right now, dragging up and down my dick. Fuck.

“Are you touching yourself, Dr. Reid?” She accused, her gasp a mixture of teasing and genuine, extracted no doubt from her hand exploring the areas my tongue has become greatly acquainted with. “Does Jennifer know? That’s _very_ naughty.”

I wasn’t even going to try to hide it anymore. I’d reached the point of no return where I wasn’t going to leave this room with all of my dignity in tact, so I might as well lean into it, right?

“Tell me what you’re doing.” I ordered, my hips already thrusting up into my hand,

“What you should be doing to me instead of sleeping with another girl,” her voice tinted with anger and purpose. Her breath came in small, harsh bursts mixed with drawn out whines.

Fuck, she was going to kill me.

“What’s that?”

“I thought you were smart. Do I need to send you more pictures?” She dared as sounds of her writhing on her sheets interrupted the ever-loud cries of pleasure.

“ _God_!” She groaned with frustration, “My fingers aren’t as long as yours, Daddy. I need something _more_.”

My head hit against the counter as my grip tightened, picking up my pace as I sighed. “I’ll give you plenty when I get my fucking hands on you again.”

“That’s too far away!” She sobbed, and I could hear that despite her words, she was getting close.

“Maybe I’ll go sleep with another boy. It’s only fair.”

Now it was my turn to laugh, clenching my eyes shut as I teetered on the edge, wanting more but also wanting to drag out the tension and pleasure of the moment. 

“A boy won’t satisfy you, either, little girl.”

“What will?” Her voice was practically nonexistent between the squeaks she was eliciting from herself. I was just so busy planning out what I was going to do to her the next time I saw her that I couldn’t think.

“Me.”

“What are you gonna do to me, Daddy?” She whispered, “Are you going to hurt me?”

“ ** _Yes_**.” I growled, envisioning the way that I’ll hold her down, forcing her to cum over and over again on my hands, tongue, and toys. I’ll force her to ride that wave until she’s sobbing while sitting on my cock and begging me to stop.

“I’m going to make you feel so good it’ll fucking **_hurt_**.”

Her moans were higher and increasing in intensity, and she didn’t have to say anything for me to know what was coming soon. Despite being close myself, I didn’t want to finish with her.

Right now, I wanted it to be about her. I wanted to be able to fully listen to and appreciate the sound of her finding her release as she envisioned me touching her.

“Cum for me, little girl.” I nearly begged, “Make your Daddy proud.”

My favorite sound of hers followed, that careening breath and desperate wavering moan that signaled the height of her pleasure. My own hand picked up, the sound of water seeming so far away as memories of her washed over all my senses.

I wanted more than anything to feel her muscles contract under my fingers, to smell the familiar scent of her shampoo and perfume as she writhed next to me. To feel the way her heat welcomed me into her most personal space.

God, I wanted to give her everything I had to offer her right now.

I didn’t even notice how long she’d been regaining her breath until she spoke, sleepy and hazy, “Tell me what you’re doing to yourself, Daddy. I want to _help_ you.”

“What you should be doing to me instead of yourself, you spoiled fucking **brat**.”

She feigned sympathy that clearly did not pair well with her words.

“Awwwe. I promise I’ll be good when you get home.” Doubt it.

“I’ll sit nice and pretty between your legs… I know how much you like the way I look with your cock in my throat.”

I swallowed, distinctly remembering how it felt to fuck her throat with her hands in my cuffs.

“I love putting that bratty mouth to good use.”

I could hear the smile in her voice when she replied, “I love it when you use me. Are you going to throw me around again? Do you want to fuck me until I break?”

The pace of my strokes now was feverish, and I couldn’t stop the way I groaned her name. “(Y/n)… if you were here I’d fucking ruin you.”

“You want to choke me and hold me down on your cock until I cry?”

She didn’t need a response. She knew the answer.

“Are you close, Daddy?” She said, her voice tinged with a suspicious thrill. Still, I was able to respond with a stern, “ **Yes**.”

Something about the silence on the other line told me what was coming, and I knew that I was completely and utterly _fucked_.

“Good.” She said calmly, hostility bristling in the static. “Now go **fuck yourself**.”

Just as I expected, the dial tone sounded in my ear, and I couldn’t help but give a dark chuckle as I let my arm fall.

Fucking _bitch_.

Then again, she wasn’t too terrible, having left behind the several pictures for, I’m assuming, this exact reason. Still riding on the edge of my own release, I was finally able to appreciate the few pictures she had sent right before I called her.

It wasn’t just the image of her body that was so alluring - I have plenty of those stored in my most cherished memories - it was the fact that she was putting on a bratty little show for me.

The way she got dolled up just to remind me how much of me is hers. I _belong_ to her. She was laying claim on me, and I was happy to give it to her. Especially now that she couldn’t hear me struggle to breathe.

Closing my eyes, I called forward every memory of her face contorted and shocked as I filled her with my release. I imagined the way those tiny hands clutched to me, fervently dragging down my back as her body begged me to stay rooted in her until I was spent.

I could hear her raspy voice as she struggled to take all of me in, ‘ _You’ve ruined me, Spencer. I’m yours. I am_ ** _yours_** _._ ’

That thought, the way she looked when I claimed her body, exhaustively and wholly owning her, was the thing that caused me to finally finish in my hands, still wishing they were hers.

God, I’m going to kill that brilliant fucking bitch.

— _A Few Days Later —_

Something told me I might see Spencer tonight. Call it a hunch, call it an educated guess, it doesn’t matter. Because sure enough, right around 3pm I got a phone call.

Giggling like a schoolgirl, I managed to pick up the phone with at least a little grace. “Hello, Dr. Reid.”

“Hey little girl.” He responded in a cursory manner, like he was trying to get the pleasantries out of the way quickly.

But isn’t half of it the chase?

I looked down as I spoke, inspecting the lace patterns of my top. “I wasn’t expecting you back so early.”

“You know how efficient I can be,” he bragged, the smirk audible in his voice. “And JJ’s not a brat, so it takes half the time it would with you.”

My jaw clenched, but I immediately let it go, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth with a bitter laugh.

I released it with a pop, my eyes narrowed as I muttered, “Cute.”

“Thank you. Come over to my place.” It took me a second to catch up after the stark difference in his tone, even though I was fully prepared for this possibility.

Like, I had been sitting in my room dressed to the nines with my hair and make up done for over three hours, for no reason other than hoping this would happen.

“Right now?” I asked with as much surprise as I could muster, “What if I’m busy?”

If my voice sounded a little tinged with fear and anxiety, it’s because it was. After the little stunt I had pulled over the phone, he’d been very short with me. I’m not sure if it was because of the case or if he was legitimately upset with me.

Then again, he didn’t sound that upset on the phone. Or at least, I didn’t think so until his voice grew dark and he responded, “It wasn’t a question.”

Well. Who was I argue with that?

— _30 Minutes Later_ —

Walking up to his door, I took my time. It wasn’t that I wasn’t eager, but more that I wanted him to get as worked up as I could make him before he saw me.

Because once he saw me, I knew that things were going to move fast. Like I said before, we hadn’t seen each other in fucking _forever_.

He still answered the door faster than I expected, like he had been waiting on the other side this whole time despite knowing how far away I lived. Like seriously, he knew the average time it took me to drive here.

But once he opened the door, his actions slowed down, his eyes quickly trailing down my body before slowly making their way back up.

His eyes lingered at the tiny black leather skirt that came up to the lace lingerie corset only half covering my top half.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

It was a rhetorical question that he only barely heard, because his eyes are still not looking at my face. Not waiting any longer, I waltzed right past him, heading towards his room.

I heard the door shut, and looked over my shoulder to see him following closely behind me. Picking up my pace, I giggled as I rounded the corner into his room, feeling him grab my wrist at the same time.

Once he had a hold of me, it went about as fast as I was expecting. He slammed me against the closest possible wall, his lips covering mine in a frantic, desperate way. Our tongues met without any hesitation, and I relished the way it felt to be close with him again.

“Took you long enough,” he complained between the heated, open mouth kisses, “I almost did call someone else.”

Liar. I laughed as he made a path with his mouth, now sucking and biting soft marks along my neck.

“I had to make sure I looked good for you.”

His hand on my waist dug into the space above my hip, his other hand knotting in my hair to expose more of my neck to him.

“You look like a fucking whore,” he growled against my skin.

“Well acquainted with whores, Dr. Reid?” I panted, trying to retain the little upper hand I had while he kissed delicious bruises into my neck, “Why? Is that the only way you can convince a girl to fuck you, you _dirty old man_?”

That seemed to strike something in him.

“This dirty old man does just fine, little girl.” His hand was now lower, pushing my skirt up with it. “Lila begged me to fuck her like a cheap whore, though.”

Ugh, fuck him. I didn’t want to think about that bitch right now. But he knew that, he knew what he was doing. He thought he could rile me up, only to bring me back down.

So much for “I don’t like brats.” Fucking bullshit.

“Shut the fuck up,” I spat, trying not to moan as he finally realized that my underwear was so thin and damp, it might as well have not been there at all. I could see the joy in his expression before he returned to laying sloppy kisses over my jaw.

“She did.” He dragged his tongue over my pulse point, and my traitorous mouth gasped at the way it caused a chill to run through my body.

“As soon as she saw what my tongue could do, she wanted it _everywhere_.” He was whispering in my ear now with one long, slender finger separating my folds with remarkably slow strokes.

“You should have seen how desperate she was for me.” I was going to fucking kill him. “Her tight little body was soaked while she moaned into my mouth—“

I was going to **_fucking kill him_**.

“Ugh!” I finally shouted, raising both hands to shove him with all the force I had towards the bed. The wild look and toothy grin he flashed me only further fueling my rage.

I pushed him again until he leaned back onto the bed, propping himself up with his arms as I approached him. Both of my hands laced through that mousy brown hair, yanking his head back to look up at me from his position.

“I said shut the fuck up!”

The way his chest rose as he licked his lips through the smile was so arousing it actually hurt. I wanted to ruin him the way he ruined me.

“Are you _jealous_ , little girl?” He teased, “Did I make you _mad_?”

I stared into him like I could show him all the different ways I wanted to hurt him right now, to reduce him to nothing but a crying, begging mess like he liked to do to me. He would look pretty when he begged me.

“You just don’t know when to fucking quit.”

He watched me as I let go of my grip, stepping back to look at the way he had hardly even moved. If anything, I think he was _more_ excited by me roughhousing with him.

I could work with that.

“Get up on the bed and take off your clothes.”

Licking my lips, I watched him as he started to do what I commanded, despite asking, “Oh? You think you’re in charge now?”

Instead of immediately responding, I dragged the zipper of my skirt down, slowly peeling it off to reveal the matching lace thong he had so easily pushed aside before.

“It’s not a fucking question.” I finally called, stalking towards him as he finally managed to strip off his bottoms. He hadn’t removed the shirt, and I tried to ignore the voice in the back of my head screaming at me to pay attention to that fact. But I didn’t let the unbuttoning be enough. I reached for the thin strip of red satin fabric besides him on the bed, instead.

“I warned you not to push me, _Daddy_ ” I pouted, taunting him with his usual title of authority. My voice was very calm as I crawled over him, taking my seat at his hips.

He watched the fabric in my hands, choosing not to struggle as I took his hands, tying the fabric around his wrists. My actions were unhurried, my focus entirely on the task in front of me.

Once I was finished I moved his hands above his head, finally looking at him to enjoy the look of wonder and amusement in his features.

My finger lightly traced down his jaw and over his lips, dragging them open slightly before I whispered, “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Almost as if he were daring me, Spencer took my finger into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the digit and hollowing his cheeks as I went to pull it away. Cute.

“I don’t think you realize how much trouble you’re in.”

Before he could respond, I grabbed hold of his erection in front of my hips. The sudden pressure caused him to jerk under me, his hands already coming up from their position on the bed.

I didn’t let them get too far, immediately shoving them back down onto the bed. He arched his back as he laughed, clearly enjoying the role reversal… for now.

“Come here, little girl.” It was worded like a demand, but it sounded so much like a polite request. I swallowed, trying to decide if it was worth giving in to him when I asked, “Why?”

“I want to tell you something.”

Ugh. Why do I want to know? Pretending like it’s somehow my idea, I readjusted my body over his, lowering down so my hair hung over his face.

“ _What_?”

He still had that fucking smile as he rubbed our noses together in the close proximity, causing my to instinctually move closer to him. God, I wanted to kiss him. He knew that, didn’t he?

“Just because you’re a brat…” he started as a flush quickly formed on my face, “doesn’t mean you can dominate me.”

Already tired of hearing that fucking voice, I rolled my eyes, releasing his arms and trusting they would stay there this time (they did). Coming down to his face, I gripped his cheeks to stop that fucking smile.

My hand wrapped around his dick tightened ever so slightly as I concluded, “You’re right. I can do both.”

“You can’t handle me.”

He was so fucking cocky. He really, _really_ underestimated how much I could put up with. But that was okay. I didn’t mind being underestimated.

Moving my hand from his cheeks down to his mouth, I shoved two fingers past his lips, holding his tongue down as I laughed. “Oh? I can’t?”

His jaw resisted the motion as I kept his mouth open, but ultimately it just led to him giving in to the intrusion.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart?”

My expression could only be described as bored as he was already starting to squirm underneath me like I wouldn’t be able to notice. I released his erection, but only so I could pull my underwear to the side, watching the way he inspect my face as I did.

“Well, since your hands are busy…” Pulling my hips up, I slid my heat up and down his dick as my body weight pressed it against his stomach. “I guess I’ll have to use this?”

He couldn’t control the way his entire body tensed, his back arching and his hips bucking to try and get a better angle so he could undoubtedly get himself inside me. But no, that wasn’t going to happen.

I didn’t stop him, enjoying the way my body rocked on top of his from the movement. My pace was lazy, grinding down on him as my arousal covered him. With each motion forward it became easier.

It must be killing him, to feel me soaking his cock without actually getting to fully experience the fruits of his labor. Not my problem. Because right now it felt _amazing_ to be able to rut against him instead of my own hand.

Closing my eyes, I threw my head back as I let out a long moan as my movements became shorter and more focused. Looking back I would wonder why I closed my eyes, as I should have spent the entire time loving the way Spencer looked with my fingers shoved in his mouth.

And when my eyes were closed, I couldn’t be fully prepared for the way he bit down on my fingers just enough to leave marks. My eyes shot open, but not any faster than my hand had pulled back. But that isn’t what surprised me, it was what immediately followed.

A loud slap resounded throughout the room as I brought my hand down against his cheek with enough force to turn his face entirely to the side. It was a mixture of my worked up, turned on spark and genuine frustration that was put into that slap.

For a second, I wondered if I might have gone too far on accident. The thought didn’t last long. I could see the pink color rising in his cheeks in my wake as he _smiled_.

Slowly, he turned his face back to me while licking his bottom lip, bringing it into his mouth with a wild look in his eyes.

He didn’t speak words, but that look told me everything I needed to know. In a way, I think he was telling me he was proud of me.

So I enjoyed the image in front of me, of my boyfriend Spencer Reid with wild brown hair to match those wild hazel eyes, his face now pink from my hand. His hands tied up and dutifully remaining above his head.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” I groaned, running my hand over his cheek roughly, “Pink looks good on you.”

That gives me an idea. Continuing the undulation of my hips, I brought both hands to his chest, pushing his shirt out of my way.

“Let’s give you some more.”

There was a flash of panic in his eyes, but he couldn’t stop me before I dug my nails into the sensitive flesh, dragging them down with enough strain to watch as red welts trailed after my fingers.

“ _Fuck_!” He shouted now, his whole body raising under me as I giggled, continuing my path down to his stomach.

“Tell me how you really feel, Daddy!” I jeered, pushing my fingers down hard with resistance as I brought my hands back to the top.

“Every mark you give me, I’ll give you triple next time I get my fucking hands on you.”

My laughter was bubbling out of me now, my nails once again painting his skin red, this time in a shape of a necklace around his collarbones. The way the muscles tensed and twitched underneath me was intoxicating, and I could barely care about what would happen to me in the future.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, little girl.”

I looked back up to him, pouting at the way he was still talking back to me. “I’m trying to,” I pointed out.

The next thing that was about to come out of my mouth gave me a thrilling idea. Personally, my favorite thing about it was that he would have no fucking idea what was going on until it was happening. Throwing my leg, I dismounted him, sliding off the bed and standing up on only slightly shaky legs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him taking deep breaths, moving in place to seek the friction and warmth that I had previously provided. Like I said before: cute.

His eyes were on me now, I could feel them behind me. It made sense, because next to him now I was peeling off my underwear, drawing out the process as long as I could, letting him enjoy the view of me bent over him.

Because when I stood back up it was only seconds before I had mounted him again, still holding my weapon of choice. “See, I’ve _been_ trying to enjoy myself, Daddy.”

He looked over at the fabric dangling in my hand and put two and two together, which only made me want to do it more. So I did, shoving the fabric into his mouth with barely any resistance as I explained, “But you just won’t shut the fuck up.”

If the way his body was beginning to twitch underneath me was any indication, I think he was starting to get frustrated. Good. He deserved it. But honestly, waiting any longer would be a punishment for me just as much as it would be for him.

I guess now’s as good a time as any now that he can’t snark me anymore.

“Now be an angel for me and let me get what I came for,” I hummed, lifting my hips and using one hand to guide him to my now exposed sex. As I lowered onto him, I could hear the stifled sound of groans he was still trying to hold back despite the fabric in his mouth.

Inching slowly down, I ignored the way he tried to thrust up, keeping myself far enough above him that it never had quite the effect he wanted. As I got closer, my hands on his hips kept him relatively flat on the bed until I was fully seated with him filling me as deeply as he could.

I sighed, my nails once again scratching any peach skin that remained, watching as my boyfriend struggled to regulate his breaths through all the stimulation.

“I wonder what Jennifer would think if she saw you like this,” I mocked, refusing to give him the tiniest piece of friction now that he was where he wanted to be.

“Mr. Big Bad FBI agent… Pretending to be so tough. But when he goes home he can’t even stop his tiny little girl from tying him up and holding him down.”

Since he couldn’t use his words to talk back, he immediately jerked his hips up, burying himself even further in me with a quiet rage clear in his eyes. I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped my lips as my position on him faltered.

Not wanting to grant him the satisfaction of having such an effect on me, I reached forward to grab his hair, pulling his head back so he had to struggle to maintain eye contact with me. He still did though, stubbornly staring down at me with the words he couldn’t say.

“Down, boy.” I spat, “If I want your help, I’ll ask for it.”

With a devilish grin, he raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘ _I’ll wait_.’

But I wouldn’t need his help. See, he had never really got to experience me riding him. He was always too excited, too ready to lay his claim. I meant it in more ways than one when I said that he didn’t know what I was capable of.

When I finally began rolling my hips I kept my grip on his hair, staring down at him while his eyes started to roll back, more noises coming from him as his frustration peaked. It made sense to me why he enjoyed seeing me like this all the time. But it was undoubtedly better when it was him, because he never behaved like this.

Spencer Reid was at my complete disposal, and I wanted him to know it. His eyes clenched shut as he began to choke on sobs himself. He wasn’t able to hold his hips down, but I could feel them shake as he tried.

“Awwwe, you’re trying so hard for me, Daddy.” I praised, now bouncing up and down, tugging on his hair with each motion.

“You want to cum so bad, don’t you? It’s been so long since you got to fill me up.”

He said something sounding vaguely like my name and “yes,” the sweat on his brow becoming more visible by the second.

“What? I can’t hear you.” I joked, pressing my body on him as I slowed my hips. “What did you say, Daddy? You want me to _stop_?”

I’m not sure how he managed to glare at me from his position, but he did. He started to thrust up more wildly now, but each time I would just raise my hips to be further from his reach.

I snuck a finger into his mouth, hooking a string from the panties and fishing them out. Flicking them aside, I narrowed the space between our faces, now holding my hips so just the tip remained inside me.

With the cruelest voice I had, I growled, “ _Beg_ me, Daddy. _Beg_ me to fuck you.”

“Please.”

It was the most beautiful sound in the world, him rasping out that syllable as he struggled to breathe.

“ _Please_.”

In one swift motion, I was seated back on him, loving the sharp inhale he took as I did so. His eyes fluttered shut, and I used his hair to turn his face so I could see the pink mark still on his cheek.

“Look at me.” I muttered, earning a defeated get desperate look from the man underneath me. With my next words, I began to grind our hips together without lifting up.

“I want you to remember this feeling. The next time you want to hang up on me for another woman, I want you to remember how _I_ make you feel.”

I didn’t even know he could make such pathetic, breathy sounds. He was struggling to maintain contact, his arms struggling against the tie.

“You might own every inch of my body, Spencer, but your cock belongs to me.”

Twisting his hair in my hand, I used my other hand to grip his throat. His eyes closed just for a second before I placed more pressure, reminding him of the power I had over him in this moment.

“It’s _mine_ , Spencer. It belongs to **me**.”

At this point, my legs were shaking from the intensity with which I slammed down onto him. The words I had said were so cathartic, I was surprised to feel myself getting closer. I honestly wasn’t even expecting to finish, but here we were.

Guess I should ride the stud more often.

But for now, I wanted to enjoy the way his pulse jumped under the pads of my fingers as I continued to taunt him, “There isn’t another bitch in the universe that can do this to you.”

The look in his eyes told me I was right.

“So **look at me** when I make you cum.”

Once I felt his hips begin to falter, I stopped with him completely in me, continuing the rolling motion as I felt him fill me with the warmth of his release.

I don’t know which was more exciting, my tight grip around his throat as he choked on a moan, or the way he continued to try to buck further into me as my orgasm washed over me and milked him for all he was worth.

I certainly know he enjoyed both. So did I.

Taking a deep breath of air once my muscles stopped spasming was so refreshing, and I realized I should allow him to do the same. Once I released his from my vice like grip on his hair and neck, I struggled to reach for his arms.

He brought them in front of me without me even needing to ask. I rewarded him by untying them quickly.

He then rewarded me by immediately wrapping them around me, pulling me down into a crushing embrace.

The wind was knocked out of me as he turned us over, his hands now grabbing hold of every part of me he could, his face buried in the crook of my neck so far I’m not sure how he could breathe.

“ _Fuck_ ,” was the mumbled word I felt more than heard against my skin. Part of me was panicked, not really knowing where to go from here. I wasn’t entirely expecting for that much of me to show today.

I really, truly hadn’t been expecting to slap my boyfriend and choke him until he came. But now I was here.

He clearly hadn’t hated it, with his hands were now pawing at every inch of me, desperately trying to take me in to him in any way he could. Eventually, he removed himself enough to look me in my nervous, confused face, bumping our noses together as he settled into our current position.

“Where the _hell_ did _that_ come from?” He finally asked, a genuine laugh creasing his cheeks with smile lines.

“I got mad?” I said more like a question than an answer, bringing my hands up to hide my face. How typical I must have looked, immediately shying away after I had shoved my fingers and panties in his mouth.

He grabbed my wrists, pulling them back down so I couldn’t hide from him. Closing the gap between us, he kissed me with that same mouth, biting down on my bottom lip softer than he had bitten my now sore fingers.

“I don’t understand how you’re real.” He whispered, his hands returning to wandering anywhere he could reach, raking through my hair and across my back.

“Just… _fuck_. I don’t know how I ever thought I could be with anyone else.”

He legitimately looked happier than I’d seen in a long time, and the smile was contagious. But maybe that’s just because I could still see the pink print and scratch marks I had left behind.

“Do you believe me now?” He asked more gently, brushing my hair out of my face. “Do you understand why I say that you have… _all_ of me?”

I returned a small nod, biting my bottom lip as he pressed a kiss against my forehead.

“It’s yours, little girl. I’m yours.”

My heart swelled in my chest, and I kept hold of him for as long as I inched away, trying to slip out from the covers to go clean myself up. My legs were much shakier now that I had ridden him, my thighs aching with every movement.

“Do you want anything?” I asked, realizing it was now my job to take care of him. Ugh, I was terrible at taking care of people. At least, it felt that way.

“No, I’ll get it myself. Don’t worry about me.”

It felt wrong to do nothing, but he also sounded so sure. I looked him over one more time as he draped his arm over his face, noting that his shirt had once again stayed on the whole time.

Don’t think about it too hard.

Don’t think about it.

‘ _It’ll be okay_.’

Fuck.

It stayed in my mind on loop as I excused myself to the bathroom, realizing that my hypocritical self had also kept my top on the whole time. But that made more sense for me. I wasn’t hiding anything.

Was he hiding something?

Ugh. I needed to learn how to trust people again, dammit.

I promised myself that’s what I was going to do when I returned to the room. He was still laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like the answers to the universe were written on it. I looked up to find it was just the same as always.

“You okay?” I asked, my fingertips drifting lightly along his exposed chest, drawing a hiss from him as I irritated the already angered skin.

“Yeah.” It was unconvincing. His eyes were on my chest and distinct lack of bottoms, and he laughed.

“I know this was your plan, but… I’m still going to let you go raid my closet for more _appropriate_ clothing.”

With a devious giggle, I bounced up and down as I hopped over to the closet, pulling the door open while I heard the rustling sheets behind me. “T-shirts are on the shelf. My pants won’t fit you, but, there are pajama shorts in there somewhere.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” I sang while looking over my shoulder, “I’ll find what I’m looking for.”

It surprised me to see he was right behind me, burying his face in my neck once more and laying tender kisses on the sensitive skin.

“I’m sure you will. I know I did.”

Those damn butterflies erupted in my stomach at the _cheesiest_ line I’ve ever heard. God, he always knew what to say to reduce me to putty in his hands. Even after I had just dominated the fuck out of him with zero reservations.

He grabbed clothes for himself before departing the room. It felt so cold when he left my side, but I knew he had plenty to do to take care of himself after I had left all those marks on him. Ah, the life of a brat tamer. It came with some downsides (if you could really call them that). 

The t-shirts were right where he said they would be, and I happily took one. Sliding into it felt warm even though that makes no sense, and it smelled just like his room. I breathed into the fabric, hugging myself in it as one does.

It took a little more digging to find the pants he was talking about, but I eventually did. Once I was fully dressed once more, I tried to put things back where they came from.

In doing so, I accidentally revealed an area that was clearly not meant to be revealed.

I don’t know what sixth or seventh sense it was that alerted me to the box, but I saw it. It was small and unassuming, but hidden in plain sight. The small latch that was clearly meant to close it was not entirely done.

I shouldn’t have touched it. I should have left it there, buried with the rest of the secrets I was certain Spencer was keeping in his literal and figurative closet.

But I couldn’t stop myself. My hands moved with a mind of their own, clutching the box without a care in the world for whether he would walk back into the room and catch me in the act. Entranced by the item in my hand, I feared I would never be able to breathe again until I opened it.

So I did. The wood creaked lightly at the motion, but I couldn’t hear it over the rush of the blood in my ears.

Inside I saw very few things, but they were all too much.

A small set of syringes, paired with a tourniquet and vials of a clear liquid. I tried to still my shaking hands, turning the bottle lightly to make the label visible. I couldn’t decide if my hands were even my own. They didn’t feel that way.

My eyes didn’t feel entirely mine either, and the word “hydromorphone” felt like it should be more foreign than it was. I knew what it was..

Hands shaking harder now, I tried to close the box, watching the contents until they were hidden from my view again. I could see it tipping precariously in my grasp, the weight of it almost nothing, but still too heavy.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t see.

I was going to throw up.

Somehow I had the sense to put the box back where I found it, staring at it on the shelf like it would disappear into the abyss and my own memory. It did not.

I knew I was hyperventilating, but I couldn’t stop myself. For some reason, I grabbed my phone, looking down at the time and trying to ground myself.

What the _fuck_. What the _fuck_ was happening.

Absentmindedly, I shut the door to the closet, turning back to the bed but suddenly feeling disgusted by the idea of sleeping there, knowing what I knew.

Wait, _did_ I know?

Yes. **Fuck**. I did.

Because it wasn’t just finding the box - it was finding it _unlocked_. Spencer wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t leave that shit _unlocked_. The only reason a man like him would leave it unlocked was because he got fucking high and forgot.

I couldn’t breathe.

And that was how Spencer found me when he walked back into the room- hyperventilating and doubled over with one hand clutching my stomach and the other on the edge of the bed. He ran over to me, but I jumped back.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, genuinely worried. I held up my hand, realizing for the first time that my phone was still there.

“Hey, talk to me. It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t look at him. I was going to be fucking sick. I shook my head, looking back to my phone like it would give me an excuse.

“I-I have to go.” I mumbled, barely recognizing my own voice.

“I can’t let you go like this.” He responded, but it only brewed hatred in my chest.

“I have to fucking go, Spencer. Something is wrong w-with my… roommate.” I mumbled, “I have to go. Sorry.”

He grabbed tightly onto my wrist as I tried to blow past him, and I couldn’t even look at him when I slapped his arm with more force than I meant to.

“Don’t **fucking** touch me!”

His eyes were wider than I’d seen before, bouncing back and forth from where I had hit him and my terrified face.

“Let me take you,” he said calmly, but my brain was firing much too fast. I was still trying to comprehend the fact that I had just hit him. I had to calm down.

If I didn’t calm down, he was going to freak out. He was going to know something was wrong. I couldn’t have this conversation right now. I had to leave.

But if I left like this, he would know. He would know and he would hate me.

I ran my hands through my hair, over my face, and everywhere to try and convince myself that this wasn’t some twisted dream.

“Okay.” I finally said, my voice shaking more than my hands. “Please take me home.”

It made me even more nauseous to ask him, with my brain asking ridiculous questions, like if he was high right now. Of course he wasn’t. I knew what a fucking high person looked like.

But he was looking at me like I was insane. I guess I was acting that way. I didn’t want him to touch me, but I wanted him desperately to hold me. He seemed to sense my paradoxical state, and reached out to me again, this time with a gentle hand.

I let him touch me now, letting the weight of his hand hold me down to the earth with him. I didn’t know when I started to cry, but the tears were pouring out of me now, unable to look at where he grabbed me, pulling me closer to him.

Enveloped in his arms, I wept louder than I thought possible. My body collapsed against his, and I clung to his shirt like it were a broken life raft barely keeping me afloat.

“I-I want to help you.” The fear and concern evident in his heightened heart rate and desperate strokes against my body couldn’t touch the pain I felt in my heart.

“Please, take me home,” were the only words I trusted myself to say. “I promise I’ll explain later. I just really need to go home right now.”

He held me tightly, a hard kiss against the top of my head. I know he wanted to ask me questions, but he was scared. He also probably knew that I wasn’t going to give him the answers he wanted.

The whole way to the car, and the whole way to my apartment, I knew that he didn’t want to leave me. He was hoping desperately that I would stop him, tell him to turn around, or invite him in.

But I couldn’t. It was taking everything in me to not jump out of the fucking car. I needed to get away from him. I needed to think about it.

The tears on the way were silent, and I spent the whole trip staring out the windows, and occasionally at his reflection that appeared whenever the light hit it right.

Was I angry? I don’t think I was.

I don’t know how to classify what I was feeling, but it hurt more than anything he’d ever done to me. I could feel the way my soul was trying to bury the evidence I’d seen and convince myself it was a cruel joke.

But it was not. My curiosity had got the best of me, and I lost again. Then again, I had known all along. I knew as soon as he didn’t let me take off his shirt.

But how long before then had this existed? I didn’t know. He never told me. Was it the nightmares? The headaches? The anger? Were they all just signs that I blatantly ignored?

When he stopped in the parking lot, he turned to me. His knuckles brushed against the side of my jaw that shook under his touch.

“Please,” he begged, “Don’t make me leave you like this.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I opened the car door. I didn’t look at him, feeling the way his heart broke as I climbed out of the seat.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

The hairs on the back of my neck were on full alert as those sad, panicked eyes stayed glued on me. I could hear him undoing his seatbelt, opening his door to come follow me.

“Don’t.” I warned, closing the passenger door and wrapping my sweater tighter around myself.

“I promise I’ll explain later. But please. If you care about me at all…” It was an if I wasn’t ready to know the answer to, “Please, leave right now.”

There was a long hesitation and silence before I heard his car start again, despite him not having closed his door yet. He was waiting for me to turn around and look at him.

I forced myself to, finding the motion easier than it felt like it should have been. He looked like I had taken a hammer to his heart and then scattered the pieces. I felt very much the same.

The guilt and fear overtook me. I thought to myself that if I left him like this, what would he do when he got home? They tell you not to think about it like that. Not to blame yourself for the behavior of addicts.

It felt wrong to call him that.

But it’s so easy to do it. To convince yourself that every bad decision they make is because you weren’t enough to stop them. That’s why I found my feet moving to the driver’s side.

It was slow at first, but I moved faster with each step. When I was in front of him, I threw my arms around his neck, holding onto him as I tried to commit the smell of his cologne to memory. I ran my hands through his hair, feeling the way the strands split through my fingers.

I pulled back, trying to record the image of those hazel eyes glistening with tears and love so I might never forget them.

And I kissed him, forcing myself to focus only on how it coated the pain in my heart with a protective spell, his arms grasping at the innermost parts of my soul so that he can still be a part of it. His hands came to my face, holding it gently and insistently all at once as he broke us apart.

“I love you.”

His voice told me that he was not lying.

I closed my eyes as all the breath left my lungs at once, trying not to hate him for making my heart stop with those words. I nodded, opening my eyes to look at the way he truly meant it.

“Don’t say it back.” He instructed as I bit my tongue, wishing that I could say so much more than those words that felt so hollow yet so necessary right now. “Just know that it’s true.”

After I separated myself from him I felt the distance stretch between us like it had so many times before. The sound of his car door shutting felt like a shot to my heart. I closed my eyes again, trying to think of anything but the pain. Trying to convince myself I’d see him again.

He rolled down his window, reaching out to my hand and grabbing it one last time before he left. He looked at me with eyes full of promise.

“I will be here whenever you need me.”

I didn’t respond, letting him pull away and drive off. I didn’t answer his last words to me because there was only one thing I could think to say to him.

‘ _I will be here whenever you need me_.’

**Liar.**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tries to get him to open up, but ends up not being able to go through having sex with him when she notices marks on his body. The two have yet another difficult talk, and try to trust each other again.

Sometimes I wondered if JJ was capable of reading my mind. Other times I wondered if she knew me at all. But right now, I didn’t think this was anything of either sort. Because it was probably my incessantly bouncing leg that alerted JJ to my frazzled state of mind.

She kept glancing up from her phone in the seat across from me, narrowing her eyes at the way I was fixedly staring at the same page in my recently acquired copy of Physician’s Desk Reference.

“Spence.” Her voice broke through the sounds of the jet and the quiet conversations of the rest of the team at the other end of the cabin. “You’ve been staring at that page for five minutes.”

I shook my head as I realized she was right, placing the book down in my lap as I ran my hands over my face.

“Sorry, I’m just… distracted, I guess. Tired.”

What a shit excuse that was. She saw through it immediately, like she always did. Leaning forward, she tried to read the frustration in my face as I avoided her eyes.

“What’s going on in there?”

There was no way I could tell her everything that was going on. I didn’t want to talk about all the crazy shit that had happened in the past few months. I definitely didn’t want to tell her about (y/n).

Derek and Garcia knowing was a mistake. A slip. _It wasn’t supposed to happen like this_. The thought alone made me feel bad, but I had to remind myself why I made this decision.

I had watched it happen again… and again… When we loved someone, they got so caught up in the bullshit of our jobs. I didn’t want that to happen to her.

She wouldn’t understand. She’d say I was just being overprotective. Maybe I was.

But I had to give JJ an answer that made sense, and I didn’t really know how to do that. She was peering down at the book on my lap. I knew she could see what it was opened to, and her eyes narrowed as she took in the images and descriptions of pregnancy- she knew them well.

“Could Will tell when you were pregnant?”

It was the only question I could think of that would make any sense with what I was looking at. But she still seemed incredibly confused, turning her face with a suspicious glimmer in her eyes. “… What?”

“Did he know? Like, could he tell you were behaving abnormally? Or was he surprised when you told him?” I was doing that thing where I was rambling again, but at least that was consistent. If I was suddenly quiet, I feel like she would be more concerned. Maybe she just figured I was asking her if she was pregnant again, or I was saying that she’d been behaving strangely.

Although, that wasn’t much better. I had found it was generally not a good idea to tell a woman she was acting hormonal.

“Spence,” the word was drawn out with concern, “why are you asking?”

Gripping the book like an anchor, I held the cover and spine up to her as I answered with the most confidence I could muster while being caught in the act of trying to figure out if my girlfriend was carrying my child, “Research.”

She seemed to accept that answer. Thank god.

“I’m not sure.” She shrugged, putting more thought than I had assumed she would into the answer, “He’s not really a profiler like us, so I don’t think it’s entirely fair. But yeah, I think he’d be able to tell something was off.”

That didn’t really help me in my current situation, since I _was_ a profiler. But if he would know, then I should be able to, too, right? In traditional scientist fashion, I needed more information than that.

“How?”

“Uhhh, I don’t know.” She shifted in her seat, giving a small pout as she tried to remember her previous pregnancy. I could see the warmth and fondness in her eyes at the memory. That time was so far removed that it felt like another life.

“Wearing more baggy clothing, the nausea, the fatigue…” She laughed before finishing, “The _mood swings_. You know, normal pregnancy signs.”

I nodded, biting down on my bottom lip as I brought my hand to my chin, resting against it. “I see… Thanks.”

She wasn’t satisfied with the worry still clear as day in my body language. But I think she knew she still wasn’t going to get an answer. That didn’t stop her from trying.

“Are you sure there’s not something _else_ you want to talk about?”

I looked up at her, the wall between us clear as day.

_Sorry, JJ. I still don’t trust you like that again. Not yet._

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

She let it go, returning to her phone with that classic _‘I tried_ ’ look I had come to know so well. But the truth is, I wasn’t sure she would even believe me if I told her what was going on.

It had been nearly two weeks since I last saw (y/n), hyperventilating and sobbing in my room. She still wouldn’t tell me what had happened. All I knew was what I saw. Her, clutching her stomach and her phone.

That alone didn’t mean much; so many things could elicit that exact response. What was more peculiar was the genuine fear that was dominating her mind and body, and the fact she still wouldn’t tell me what happened.

It was probably just my paranoia that noted the fact she had brought up children again recently, but I was kicking myself for reacting the way I did. I really, really hoped that hadn’t been her attempt to tell me something deeper. Because I had responded like an idiot. She had just… caught me off guard, I guess.

Like I’d told her, I wasn’t against the idea of having kids - I _wanted_ kids. But the idea of trapping her with me, at her age, to raise my children while I was in a different state half the time? Doing things like getting shot? It was scary.

I could see why _that_ would scare her.

Which is why my stomach was currently in knots, my brain trying to go back over everything she’d said and done leading up to that moment in my room. And the fact that she wouldn’t even call me. All of our conversations since then had been over text, with her constantly saying she was busy and that we could talk when I got home.

But when I was home, she would inform me that she wasn’t feeling well. How long did she think she could keep this up? How long was I supposed to accept her constant avoidance of me, before I did something about it?

I guessed I should do something soon. At the very least, I just wanted to see her to make sure she was okay. Although, some selfish part of me wanted to see her just so I could build my own profile. I hated not knowing things; I wanted to gather as much information as I could and put myself in control of the situation. God, why couldn’t I just fucking talk to her like a normal person?

“I’m on my way home. Can I see you?”

She responded faster than I expected, albeit with the same terse tone.

“Sure. Can you meet me at The Grounds?”

My face scrunched up in confusion as I tried to figure out why on Earth she would want to meet me in a public place. Did she not want me to see her apartment? Was she scared I was going to confront her? Was she… breaking up with me?

I really hated the way my brain works sometimes. Most of the time, really.

Accepting the silence of the engine as the only distraction from my own thoughts, I stared out the window, wishing that the time and space between us didn’t feel so suffocating.

— _Later that Day_ —

The small local cafe smelled like it always did, but the warm and comforting aroma could not quite distract me from the girl sitting in the corner.

She hadn’t even noticed I’d arrived yet, busy watching a family playing one of the provided board games at a nearby table.

I watched them before I approached, noting the young child struggling to count the correct number of movements for his piece on the board. To his right, his mother bounced his younger sister on her lap, counting along.

My chest ached as I tore my vision away from them, back to the girl who still hadn’t looked my way.

If she sensed my presence, she didn’t do anything to show it until after I’d sat down. Even then, her eyes flickered over to me like she was looking at the sun after sitting in the dark. Like it hurt to look at me.

“Hey little girl.”

My voice was weaker than I would have liked, and hers was very much the same.

“Hi, Spencer.”

She looked like a mess. I don’t mean to say she looked ugly, but her eyes were stained red from tears, the skin around them somehow simultaneously puffy and sunken. She looked like she was in pain.

“How have you been?” I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear what lie she would tell me.

“Fine.” She muttered, sticking her fingers out from the oversized sweatshirt I’d given her. That was the first good sign I could find. She wasn’t planning on breaking up with me, at least.

“I got you a coffee.” She pushed the drink over to me, and I took it with an unsure smile.

“Thanks. Where is yours?”

The barista immediately called out the answer.

“Hot chocolate for (y/n).”

“Sorry, one sec.” I watched her as she climbed out of the seat, moving slowly to grab the sweet drink with a genuine, but small, smile to the woman behind the counter.

She wasn’t mad at the woman behind the counter. She was mad at me, though. I just didn’t know why.

“Hot chocolate, huh?” I asked as I took the first sip of my drink, which was made to my usual and exact specifications.

She had no idea how perfect she was.

“Yeah. It’s childish but it makes me feel better.”

It was a defensive statement for a non-aggressive question. I didn’t want her to feel like I was interrogating her, but I needed to get something, anything from her.

“You don’t want the caffeine?” I realized aloud, “That’s unlike you.”

“I guess.”

She let the conversation die there, pulling her feet up onto the chair in front of her like she would do at home when she was tired.

My eyes couldn’t stop running back and forth over her, trying to gain some insight into what was happening inside her head. When I landed on her face again, I noticed she was glaring at me.

“Stop doing that. Don’t ‘profile’ me, or whatever.”

It was a simple enough request that I could follow with a simple enough question. “(Y/n) why are we here?”

From the second she raised her hands up in the air, I knew she was going to escalate the conversation. She was hiding something and was very upset that I was trying to figure out what.

“ _You_ said you wanted to see me.”

I took a deep breath to avoid matching her tone. I wasn’t mad at her. I wanted to help her.

“You know what I meant.”

She hung her head like she was ashamed to have responded that way, taking the smallest sip from her drink.

“I just wanted to come here. Like I said, it makes me feel better.”

Her eyes were wandering away from me again, back to the family across the way, then down to the table in front of her.

“Is there a reason you need to feel better?”

The way she rolled her eyes told me she knew I hadn’t given up on profiling her words and her actions.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

That went about as well as I had predicted. I let the silence hang between us for a moment longer, listening to the ambient sounds of the room as I watched her sigh.

“You brought it up so…” I said, and she turned her face away, “I think you do.”

She took a sharp inhale before stopping, holding it in her chest as if in letting it out, her entire soul would follow. Her hands had started shaking around her cup, tears glistening in those beautiful doe eyes.

“(Y/n) please talk to me,” my voice cracked, “I’m a profiler, I-I know when things are wrong.”

I reached a tentative hand between us, happy when she moved her fingers enough to wrap around mine. Holding tighter to my hand, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth to avoid talking.

“Something is really wrong with you and…” I continued, “I-I need you to talk to me about it. I want to help you.”

It was my turn to hold my breath as she used her other hand to wipe the tears forming beside her eyes.

I squeezed her tiny hand as I pleaded, “ _Please_ , (y/n). Just tell me.”

The request earned an uncharacteristically bitter laugh, paired with furrowed brows. She tugged her hand away, shoving them both in her lap as she slumped down into her chair.

“You’re not the only one who can tell when things are wrong, Spencer. Okay? I get it. I look like shit. I’m a bitch. I don’t know what you want to hear.” 

The words hurt my heart enough for me to wince as she said them, shaking my head to rid myself of the thought.

“Don’t do that,” I asked more than ordered, “I don’t think that at all. I’m on your side.”

Her legs dropped and were now bouncing under the table, causing a slight tremor to shake through the table. She seemed nervous for the answer when she asked, “Are you?”

“Of course I am. I love you.”

Although it hadn’t been my intention, the words seemed to only further stoke her anxiety. Her legs might have stopped bouncing, but it was like all the energy had shot straight into her lungs that were now pumping out a distressing amount of air.

Was that why she was worried? Because I had told her I loved her? No, that didn’t make sense. She had started freaking out before I told her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled the apology I really didn’t want to hear, “I shouldn’t have come here.”

I didn’t have a response to that, so I just sat in silence with an unsure, solemn half smile while she decided whether she wanted to leave.

Did things always have to be this complicated? The thought didn’t last long before I reminded myself that any secret she kept from me, I could probably match with one of my own.

“Please, let’s just… Let’s just forget about it.”

Happier with that answer than the alternative of her telling me to fuck off, I nodded in earnest with a quick and clear, “Okay.”

She was laughing once more, but, again, not the laugh you would want to hear in this kind of situation. She reached for her cup.

“It’s really not okay, but… I don’t know what else to do.”

This time I grabbed her hand more fully, not waiting for her to reciprocate before lowering myself to look into those beautiful eyes she was still trying to hide from me.

“I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever is best for you.”

With another deep breath in and out, the tension finally started to melt from her shoulders. Thank god.

“I just… hate seeing you in pain.” I explained while trying to keep tears out of my own eyes, “I would do anything to make it stop.”

I didn’t know if it was because she heard the sincerity in my voice or if she just got tired of keeping this up, but she placed her other hand on top of our joined ones.

“C-Can you come over?”

She didn’t have to ask again.

“Yes.”

“Can we…” Her voice started, quiet and shaken, “can we actually just hold each other this time?”

I knew it wasn’t exactly the right response to smile at that, but I couldn’t help it. The softness in her features as she uttered something so entirely innocent made my heart hurt.

“I just really… really need that,” she said, insecurity bleeding into her features while she twisted in her seat.

“Of course. Let’s go home.”

Just glad to see her smile again, I made sure to not let go of her hand the entire way home. I don’t know why, but something told me that if I did, it would taint the effort it took to get her back here with me. So I held on for dear life.

I held onto her like she would fade into nothingness without it, only letting her go when we had finally made it back to her apartment and I could watch her safely climb into the bed.

I followed after her with the utmost urgency, not even bothering to shed my clothes first. I couldn’t wait that long; I just had to hold her.

It was hard to explain what it felt like to hold her. I had never understood what people meant when they said holding the person you love was like holding the entire world in your hands.

But now I did.

They meant that it was heavy. Because despite her being small and delicate like a baby bird curled up beside me, I couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming sense that I must defend her with my every breath. If it was the last or only thing I did in this world, I wanted to love her the way she deserved to be loved. Freely and completely.

I tried to write love letters on her arm, drifting fingers against the silky surface of her skin.

“Is this alright?”

Everything I did now was soft, scared that even a slight roughness would shatter her.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Smiling at the sound of relief in her voice, I joked, “You’re nice.”

“Pffft.” She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, shrinking further back, like she might actually melt into me somehow.

I wished she could. I would give her every molecule of my existence, building a shield around her to protect her from everything that might hurt her.

I tried to tell her that as I buried my face in her hair, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head.

“I love you.”

She rewarded me with my favorite smile in the world; unapologetic and using all the muscles in her face. 

“You might have mentioned that once or twice.”

That kind of smile made it so hard not to kiss her. So I did, my lips trying to reach every inch of the side of her face closest to me. That is, until she wouldn’t let me anymore, clumsily pushing my face away.

“I can’t help it. It feels so nice to be able to say it.” I said before pressing a kiss to the hand now over my mouth.

“I wouldn’t know,” she playfully complained, “You told me not to.”

Bringing her closer, I quietly conceded, “I know.”

Although it was happening slowly, I knew that this was working. I could feel the way her body progressively relaxed the longer we stayed together like this.

She needed to know that I was there. That I wasn’t going anywhere. The problem was, for some reason, she had assumed I would reject her, and was pushing me away preemptively.

I could relate to that.

In fact, a lot of her behaviors were relatable to me. But I couldn’t tell her that. Because confronting our similarities also meant delving into why they existed in the first place.

I just wanted to keep her innocent and keep her safe, preserve that image of her in my mind. It was naive and altogether impossible, but I wanted to try.

Slowly but surely, she began to speak.

“I haven’t been able to sleep.”

Yet another thing I could relate to. I tried to think of the infinite ways I could help her in such an obvious time of need, but eventually settled on the one that would, in the very least, make her laugh.

“Do you want me to sing to you?”

She tilted her head back with a skeptical smile. “… Are you any good?”

It was the question I was hoping she would ask before I made my attempt. Because the answer was very easy.

“ _Absolutely_ not.”

“Then yes,” she said between little laughs that resembled the light refracting off what remained of a storm. “I do.”

Cursing myself for the way I would surely embarrass myself, I let my hands wander over the comfortable plane of her stomach as I began to sing.

“ _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_.”

Her bubbly giggles continued at my horribly off-tune, scratchy effort at a song. I didn’t mind; they were the reason I was doing it at all.

“ _You make me happy when skies are grey_.”

My hands on her stomach had a life of their own, and I tried not to scare her as they moved lower, stroking gentle heart patterns over the area below her belly button.

I wanted to know how she reacted, but she seemed just as content. I couldn’t say the same for myself, however, as the thought and feeling of being close to her like this, the possibility of a family with her - at any point in the future - filled my heart with so much longing I was scared it would swallow me whole.

“ _You’ll never know dear,_ ” my voice cracked with the emotions stirring in my chest, but she didn’t say anything. “ _How much I love you._ ”

Her hand joined mine at her stomach, stopping the motions by pressing mine flat against her. Her eyes closed, somehow enjoying my terrible rendition of the maudlin lover’s lullaby.

“ _Please don’t take my sunshine away_.”

With a deep breath, she shifted in my arms to turn towards me. Those beautiful, warm unforgettable eyes inspected my face like there was something worth looking at.

“ _Please don’t take my sunshine away._ ”

Tiny fingers came up to my lips, and I held her hand so that I could kiss the tips that touched me. She was here, in my arms, laughing once more.

I never wanted anything else. She moved closer as I sang one more line that was threatened to be cut short by her closing the distance between us.

“ _Please… don’t take my sunshine away._ ”

She waited until the end before she held my face in her hands, pulling herself up in the bed to grant me the kind of kiss I hadn’t gotten in weeks.

I wish I could say the kiss was all joy and beauty, but it wasn’t. It was heart wrenching and filled with doubt. But that mattered little to me in that moment. Because a kiss that signaled pain was better than one that signaled apathy, and certainly better than none at all.

If I could keep her close to me and show her that I would always love her, then hopefully I could make her happy again.

For now, I just needed her to show me that she wanted to be here with me.

When she stopped the kiss, I just watched her. I brushed the wispy hairs from her cheek that obstructed my view, carefully observing how the touch both excited and calmed her.

“There’s my little girl. I’ve missed her.”

Her face was filled with guilt and something else, but it was never built to display either. It felt wrong.

“Sorry I’ve been so weird.” It was an understatement, but also an unnecessary apology.

I didn’t know how many times I would have to tell her not to apologize for being afraid, but I would do it forever if I had to.

She guided her hands down to my chest as my own cupped her face now, seeing how small she really was in my hands.

“All that matters is that you’re here with me now.”

What she said next broke my heart, and it took all my strength not to show it.

“What happens if… if I’m not?”

“What do you mean?” I couldn’t let the words sit. It was a possible reality I wasn’t willing to face, and I didn’t want her to consider.

“I just… I can’t get it out of my head that… That you’re going to leave.”

The emotions she’d bottled up for weeks were pouring out of her now, her words gaining speed and anxiety, “That you’re going to be taken away from me and I— I don’t know how to handle that, Spencer.”

My eyes darted between hers, trying to soothe the pain evident in the fresh tears welling up beneath already too-tired eyes.

“Hey, hey,” I shushed her gently, “Why are you worried about that?”

“You say you don’t want to leave me, Spencer, but so many things can happen and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if one day I wake up and you’re just… **_gone_**.”

She was not crying now; she was openly weeping. Panic set into my stomach as I tried to find some way to reassure her and came up empty.

“What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to keep going like— like you weren’t _here_? I can’t go back to not having you here, Spencer. I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know what to do if you…”

Some part of me recognized this spiel from somewhere in my past, but I ignored the similarities.

This wasn’t the time for profiling. It was time for me to hold her and protect her from the darkness brewing inside her own mind.

Ever since the night we met, she had been telling me that I could do whatever I wanted to her. But today, all I wanted to do was take care of her.

“I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me?” My thumbs wiped the tears from her cheeks, holding her close enough to feel me but far enough away that she could see that I was not lying.

“I will be with you no matter what happens or where you go. There’s _nothing_ you could do to make me leave you. There’s nothing that could take you away from me.”

For a moment she looked at me like she had many words she wanted to share, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, she buried her face in my chest, soaking my shirt with her worries and pain. There was nothing else I could do but hold her, hoping that my presence would provide her with the relief that she so desperately sought.

So I held her, trying my hardest not to show the tears that gathered and fell in my own eyes. They weren’t entirely born of empathy; some of them were from my own self-pity. My own self-hatred.

She deserved so much better than me.

— _Two Weeks Later_ — 

I wanted to see my boyfriend. At the same time, I really did not want to see my boyfriend. I wasn’t quite sure how to rectify that.

It’d been a month since I had found Spencer’s secrets hidden in his closet, and I’d been putting off doing something about it for much longer than that. I knew that I couldn’t keep it up. Not only because he was getting more insistent, but because it was draining the life out of me.

So I made a decision: I was going to see him, and I would try to be normal.

Call it denial or self-preservation, but I had spent the past two weeks since I last saw him convincing myself that nothing had changed.

He was still my boyfriend that I cared for very much, and he hadn’t done anything to hurt me. I mean, I still didn’t know whether he had ever used those drugs. It could be that he had another reason for not showing me his arms. What that could possibly be, I had no idea.

I had never asked.

So maybe, if I could just convince myself for long enough that everything is normal, things would make sense again and it won’t matter. Maybe he would come clean with an explanation himself. I wasn’t sure what the likelihood of that was.

I wished I could ask him. He would know.

Chewing anxiously on my bottom lip, I pressed dial on the phone, holding my breath until I heard his voice (which took virtually no time at all.)

“Hey, little girl.”

“Hey,” I said with a relieved smile at the sound of his voice, “are you busy?”

There was a chuckle across the way, entertained by his answer before he even gave it. “Might come as a surprise to you with my thrilling social life but, no. I’m not busy.”

It was crazy; whenever I spoke with him like this, the tension and fear would just… melt away. It was scary, to know how easily I could be persuaded to forget. How easy it was for both of us to pretend everything was fine.

“You want to be?” I asked, trying to summon the typical cadence of my voice.

“Hmmm. That’s a tempting offer.” He joked, clearly excited by the prospect. But then again, he could probably also sense my hesitance. It was quiet for a moment before I continued.

“Can I come over?”

“…You sure?” He started, sounding unsure himself, “I can come to you if you don’t want to drive.”

I was swirling my keys in my hand, having already planned to go to his place. Worst case scenario, I could always just leave. If he came here it would be far more complicated.

I hated that I was already planning an escape route for the worst possible situation, but I couldn’t turn off that part of my brain anymore. I already had a rehearsed excuse.

“We can’t do what I want at my place.” It was also just true. It had been a month since I slept with him, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. I didn’t care if that made me sound like a whore, because I know it was more than just sex.

When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. He told me so many things in those moments that I’d never heard outside of them. As long as _I love you_ didn’t become one of those things that was only muttered then, I was okay with that.

The playfulness returned to his voice, and soon after, he drawled, “Are you propositioning me, little girl?”

“What if I am?” I shot back, my steadily forming grin audible in my words.

“I know this girl on the phone… she’s familiar.”

“I’ll be there in…” Already on my way out the door, I started to mumble our familiar farewell, but was cut off by his voice chiming in, “27 minutes?”

Of course, he had already calculated how long it would take me around this time of day. I nodded like he would be able to hear it, and then followed with a soft but eager, “Give or take. See you soon, Dr. Reid.”

“I can’t wait. I love you.”

I still hadn’t gotten used to hearing it, and I hoped that I never did. I hoped that each time he said it to me it sounded like the first time. There was never a doubt in my mind that it was true. I just wished that I could have heard it under better circumstances.

I guess I was just still waiting for the first time he said it when it didn’t also feel like a cover for something else.

— _Thirty Minutes Later_ —

His footfalls behind the door felt lighter than usual. I smiled at the thought, wondering if I would be able to see that atypical innocence he would sometimes put on full display with me.

Sure enough, when the door swung open he had a bright, toothy grin shining across his face, helping accept me into his arms in a hug.

My face fell into his chest like always, and I relished in the warmth he provided, humming contently between my words.

“Hey there, Doctor. Heard you were feeling a little lonely.”

With a swift kiss on the top of my head, he answered with the charm I always fell for from him.

“Only every you time you leave.”

I rolled my eyes, tilting up to look at him without unwrapping my arms from around his midsection, droning into his shirt, “You are so cheesy.”

The image must have affected him more than I thought it would, because without any further thought he grabbed my face in his hands, pulling me up into a meaningful kiss.

Those were the times where I felt most connected to him. It was when his hands blended into my skin, his mouth coaxing mine open and sharing our spit and our spirit.

I didn’t know what I wanted to tell him yet, but I trusted my heart to be able to talk just like this. He must have heard me, because when he pulled away again, he spoke softly to me.

“God, I missed you.”

His hands were on a downward trajectory now, smoothing over my arms and over to my hips. His grip was tighter and more daring. He pulled me closer to him, never once breaking away from my eyes.

“Which part of me?” I cheekily joked.

“All of you.” He responded, giving an honest answer if his actions were any indication. It had only been a few seconds, but I could feel the way our bodies responded.

We were soaking in the openness, both searching for more.

“Take it, then,” I challenged, my hands bundling the fabric of his shirt as I held on tightly to him. This time when he threw me over his shoulder it wasn’t a product of pain. He was laughing at my playful screeches and the way I flopped over so easily.

And when we got to the bed, he didn’t toss me onto it. It was more like we both stumbled into the place together, already a mess of limbs and happiness before we’d even begun.

Somehow we managed to right ourselves, and soon enough we were half naked on his bed. I was perched on his lap, holding onto the hem of my shirt to lift it over.

He didn’t remove his.

I tried to force my smile to remain as I bared my whole self to him and he kept his hidden away. I didn’t want to think about it. But how could I not, when it was so clearly in front of me?

In an attempt to draw attention away from it, he began kissing my neck and shoulders, pulling me closer to him and grinding our lower halves together.

The soft moan that escaped me was real, albeit reserved. I placed both hands on his shoulders as I pushed back, able to croak out only a few words before he tried to resume our activities.

“W-wait, Spencer.”

His actions had never halted so quickly, his body freezing like I’d physically shocked him into compliance.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” The worried tone felt wrong. It hurt. That’s what I hated the most about the situation - I felt like I was lying to him by not telling him that I knew he was lying to me. Well, hiding something from me.

“Yeah, Spencer, everything’s fine.” It wasn’t convincing, but he accepted it nonetheless. “Can I… will you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

The swiftness with which he accepted caused me to laugh, knowing that he was being honest. I couldn’t think of many things he seemed unwilling to do in that moment. After all, how many men would go a month without having sex with their girlfriend without ever pressuring them? Not enough.

I untied the bandana that had been holding my hair back, holding it out to him with a cautious hand. He didn’t take it, he just looked at it and then back to me. He knew what I was asking, but he wanted me to say it.

“Will you… tie this around my eyes?”

It sounded awkward, and it felt that way too. I didn’t know how to tell him that I needed to be with him without looking at him. I could’ve just insisted on seemingly detached sex like we had before, but I didn’t want that, either.

I just wanted to feel him, his presence, his love, without having to see the constant reminder wrapped around his arms.

But when he asked “… Why?” I couldn’t tell him that.

“I… want to remind myself what it’s like to trust someone.”

As he digested my words he stared at the object in my hand, probably running a million theories through that mysterious mind of his. But once he had exhausted them all, he gave a small nod and took it from my hand,

“Okay,” he said with growing confidence, “Yeah, sure.”

Some part of me worried that I was manipulating him somehow, but it didn’t make too much sense. I wasn’t doing this to learn anything. Maybe I was being selfish and trying to figure out a way around a boundary he had apparently set up. But if I didn’t purposefully try to investigate that, was it really that wrong?

I tried not to think about any of that while he folded the fabric, tying it with the utmost care around my temples. His hands were as soft and warm as always, and the distinct lack of dominance in his motions told me he was really only doing this for me.

“Is this alright?” He asked once it had been properly secured. I didn’t even try to test its durability, my eyes remaining closed behind it, anyway.

“Yes.” I said simply, my hands tangling in his hair, bringing his face to rest against my chest. All I wanted was to be able to feel his skin on mine. Not driven by the usual lustful energy, his mouth dusted over my skin without any particular purpose.

Every now and then he would place little kisses that became more involved, his large, firm hands holding me secure on his lap.

“Spencer,” I sighed, my hands trying to fit past the collar of his shirt, a quiet sound of displeasure as I failed to reach very far. “Please, I just…”

The air felt heavy, and his fingers on me felt tighter and stronger. I was so glad he couldn’t see the way my eyes glassed over, my breath catching in my throat as I spoke again.

“I want to feel close to you. Please.”

He didn’t ask me to clarify. He pressed his forehead against my shoulder and I could hear the way he warred with himself in his head. I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to take back my request, and he knew that.

Eventually he grabbed my hands, bringing them down to the front of his shirt, silently directing me to begin undoing each of the buttons. I tried to be as unhurried as possible, my fingers slipping underneath the extra space provided with each step.

I couldn’t see him, but I could still feel his eyes on my face the entire time.

Once I had finished the last button, I pushed my hands up his chest. I wasn’t looking for anything except the man I loved. I found him, my hands sliding over his shoulders, exposing more of him as the fabric followed my path.

Less hesitant now, he pulled his arms from the shirt, wrapping them around my body before I knew it.

Suddenly, I felt so much lighter. Like a curtain of iron had been stripped from between us, I could feel the breath return to us as our naked bodies found each other once more.

I can’t explain how it felt, to be suddenly embraced in unencumbered love. I craved to have more, to feel more, to show him how grateful I was to simply be able to _be_ with him again.

But I didn’t thank him, because he immediately took my mouth in his, returning to where we had left off. Our sweetness no longer laced with the bitterness of fear, our tongues traded secrets without words.

His hands made their way down my body, lifting me as they worked the tired muscles of my backside. I arched my back, using my hands to push him back towards the front of the bed. Taking the invitation, he lifted us both to move up.

He still kept me close, his face in my neck and his hands on my back.

“I want to…” He mumbled, dancing around the subject and the space between our legs. His hardness pressed against me, and I let out a shaky breath at the thought.

“Do… do you want to?”

“ _Yes_ ,” was my enthusiastic, honest reply. Because I did want to. I wanted to, perhaps more than I had ever wanted to.

We waited another few seconds to make sure that the other wouldn’t back out, but neither of us did. So it was I who lifted myself onto my knees, both of my hands on his shoulders as we both shifted in the very little space between us.

When I began to lower myself onto him my nerves fired into something resembling a light show. I couldn’t keep my feelings contained, several tiny, pathetic mewls escaping my lips while he struggled not to thrust up into me.

Every couple of inches I would stop, retreating ever so slightly before continuing. The month that had lapsed showing in the awkward struggle to fully take him in, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seemed excited by it.

“I missed you so much,” he groaned as I had finally settled into a seated position on him, his hips jerking ever so slightly under me.

“And not just because of this,” he tagged on as an after thought. I laughed, pushing him slightly to urge him to lay back. He did so with a little too much enthusiasm, probably recalling the last time I rode him.

“Well, I definitely missed this the most.” I joked as I began to grind my hips back and forth until I had finally adjusted to his length. He rubbed my thighs, occasionally dragging his short fingernails down the skin.

The next time he did so, I leaned back, propping myself up on my arms as I began rolling my hips more insistently. He was more desperate now, returning my efforts with moans and various obscenities.

I was used to that; so used to it that I could almost picture the way he looked with his head thrown back amongst the pillows, his abdominal muscles tensing in waves as he tried to synchronize with my movements.

I wanted to see him. So I broke the cardinal rule of this entire exercise: I opened my eyes. I opened them to see the light peeking out the bottom of the crude blindfold. And I saw through a little sliver where our bodies met.

The sight filled me with a lust and excitement I’d been lacking, which was reflected in my much more vocal expression.

“Spencer,” I cried, leaning forward again to take more of him in, able to sit on his entire length. “ _God_ , I missed you, Spencer.”

His hands found their way back to my hips, guiding me in time with his thrusts.

“I’m here, little girl.” He groaned, the emotion clear in his voice. “I’m here with you.”

The words seeped into my soul, stoking the flame of our connection that had been flickering in the vacuum of uncertainty. My hands on his chest pressed down like I was trying to hold him in that moment, begging him to remain there, _present,_ as he claimed to be.

I was stupid and I was reckless. It was foolhardy denial and naiveté. My eyes darted back down to the smallest fraction of light in my field of vision, because my curiosity always got the better of me.

And I always, **always** lost.

I wasn’t sure which happened first, as the next two events blurred together into a cacophony of horrific emotions. I caught something out of the corner of my eye at the same time I heard him speak.

“I love you.”

That was what he said. That was what I heard through the ringing in my ears and the irregular, frantic pounding of my heart.

 _I love you_ was what I heard when I looked down, my gaze latching onto the newly visible skin, immediately recognizing the dark purple and red spots trailing in a line up the inside of his arms. The arms that had held me so carefully, as if I would break. The marred skin looked as painful as it felt in my heart.

 _I love you_ , he said. _I love you._

My actions didn’t come to a complete halt, but rather a dizzy deceleration, my hands on his chest tearing away like he had scalded me. He must have seen the panic in the features of my face he could still see, the way my legs immediately began shaking with my quickened breath.

“(Y/n),” he called from somewhere far away, “are you alright?”

“No.” The word sounded foreign on my tongue the first time, and it only got worse as I said it more.

“No… No. No. I’m…”

I couldn’t breathe, let alone think of how to word this appropriately. I wanted to get up and leave, but I couldn’t move. It felt like all the weight that had previously been lifted had been dumped on me at once.

 _I love you_?

Those arms blighted with the evidence I’d all but asked for and actively sought out, wrapped around me. He sat up, trying to hold me. But the thought of that made me feel sicker than I already did.

I wanted to scream, but my lungs couldn’t hold enough air to make such a noise. So instead I tried to manipulate my hyperventilating breath into a word. His hands were clinging to me, trying to calm me down.

“It’s okay, (y/n), I’m here.”

Unable to tell him not to touch me, my limbs began flailing against him, coming down on him much harder than I’d ever wanted to hit him. I wasn’t trying to hurt him; I was trying to get away.

But I could tell it was hurting him. I hated that I couldn’t care about that right now, continuing to scramble to get away from him despite how hard he was trying to help calm me down.

“S-Starship!” I shouted, leading him to remove his arms from me. It was obvious it was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to let go, but he knew that was what I was asking. He didn’t know why, but he knew he was hurting me.

I tore the blindfold off, clambering off the bed and somehow managing to grab my clothes as I did so. I didn’t turn around to look at him, but I heard him pulling his shirt back on. The crinkling sound of the fabric felt like sandpaper on my skin.

His priority right now was still to hide himself from me. Revealing his secret was what he was most afraid of.

Running straight to the bathroom, I haphazardly put on my shirt, trying to hide any memory of what had just happened. I tried to catch my breath, running my hands through my hair to group it over one shoulder.

Before I knew it, I was on my knees, dumping the nonexistent contents of my stomach into the toilet in front of me. The ceramic of the floor felt so cold against my heated skin, but it wasn’t a relief.

All I could see in the reflection of the water was the memory that had just been burned into my brain. The thought alone made me gag, and soon enough I was dry heaving once again.

It wasn’t until Spencer walked in that I realized I hadn’t even managed to shut the door. 

“(Y/n), are you okay?” He walked in, kneeling beside me with his hands hovering over me. I gave him a glance just to say not to touch me. His hands fell.

“Did I hurt you?”

I hated the question because the answer was complicated. Too complicated to be explained away with a throat full of acid.

“Please, get out.”

“Why are you throwing up?”

He was ignoring my request now, clearly getting angry at the situation. He had no right to be. More annoyed, I snapped back, “I’m just sick. Please, leave.”

“You know I’m not doing that,” his voice was shaking with frustration, “I _can’t_ do that. I-I can’t pretend that there isn’t something wrong.”

My stomach lurched forward, and I spat the yellow froth into the bowl before finally yelling, “I said get the fuck out, Spencer!”

There was an obvious resentment in the way he left, but I couldn’t focus on it right now. All I could think about was how I planned on getting that image out of my head. I should have known. I _had_ known.

This happened because I had let it. I knew what was going to happen. I knew myself. I had been a reckless idiot and it bit me in the ass.

I tried to pull it together, to reorient myself to the current place, the current reality, before I rinsed my mouth and returned to his room. I stood at the doorway for a moment, peering in to see him sitting at the edge of the bed, his face in his hands like he was about to start crying.

“I need to talk to you.”

He lifted his head, but he didn’t look at me. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the wall as he remained leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“What?” I said, my voice hoarse from what had just happened, “Now you don’t want to talk?”

Clasping his hands together in front of him, I barely heard the quiet, saturnine sound of his voice.

“I’m waiting for you to change your mind again.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from screaming, but the anger came out just the same.

“Well, I’m sorry my mental fucking breakdown isn’t going according to your schedule, Spencer.”

He stood up, immediately approaching me with the chaotic anger he had been trying to hold back. “Do you know how hard this is for me? To watch you have a breakdown and not be able to do anything to help?”

My responding bitter laugh spread through the room, and I crossed my arms over my waist to hide from him, holding onto my stomach.

“Yeah, Spencer, I really _do_ get it. I **really** fucking do.”

His eyes were glued to my hands that now gripped my shirt like it would help me contain my wildly flaring emotions.

“Please, just… _talk_ to me.” I don’t know why his begging made me so angry, but it did. I was so out of my mind with grief over the memories that had just been tainted.

“About what?”

I wanted him to tell me what he wanted to talk about. I wanted him to do something that wasn’t fair. I wanted him to read my mind.

But he couldn’t. Because profiler or not, he was just a man. Just a man scared about what was happening to the woman he loved.

“About what’s bothering you.” He sounded so tired. “About… why you just ran away in the middle of sex to dry heave in the bathroom. Why you’re not able to sleep. Why you think I’m going to leave you.”

I turned away, his words feeling like knives to my chest. I raised a hand to my mouth, chewing on my nail to bite back the tears.

“Talk to me about why you can’t look at me for longer than _five seconds_ without looking like you’re going to cry. I can’t help you if you don’t **_talk_** to me!”

“I fucking can’t!” I screamed back, my voice shrill and raw. I hated it. I’d never wanted to yell at him. I certainly didn’t want it to be like this.

“Why?!” He yelled back, his voice just a notch below mine. He wasn’t angry anymore, he looked petrified. Like this was building up to something life-shattering. But it wouldn’t be; not for him. Just me.

Panicking, I turned around to try and leave the room. I don’t know where I would have gone, but I never got far enough to worry about it. His arm grabbed me not very hard at all - just enough to convey that he wanted me to stay.

“Fine. Don’t talk about it. Just… answer me.”

Freezing in place, I turned my face enough to see him, but not enough to look at him.

“Are you pregnant?”

My head was spinning again, unable to follow the train of thought for long enough to be meaningful. With a befuddled look, I turned around.

“ _What_?”

“Are you?”

His breathing was deep and unsteady, his hand shaking against my arm. I tore it away, taking a step back as the word nearly exploded from my chest.

“No!”

It was strange, seeing the relief wash over his face just for the confusion and frustration to come crashing back down. He had only taken one full breath before he took another step to make up for the one I’d taken back.

“Then **what** is happening? Why are you so… so… terrified of being with me?”

“I’m not fucking pregnant, Spencer,” I warned.

“I don’t understand. I don’t know what else could possibly scare you this much, and I can’t keep playing this guessing game with you.”

Angry at the implication, that it was all just a game that I was playing, I stormed past him in the room. I remembered the way he had used very similar words against me before, stating that all of my reasonable, legitimate fears and anger were just meant to get his attention.

But I didn’t want his attention. I wanted an explanation.

Deciding I was tired of playing this game, I threw open his closet door, digging through the contents to find the box that had thrown me into this disarray.

It was there, because of course it was. Right where I had left it.

“I’m not fucking pregnant!” I threw the box on the ground in front of him. The clattering of the wood against wood filled every inch of the room before a mind-numbing, deadly silence.

As soon as he saw it on the ground in front of him, he brought a hand to his face and turned his entire body away from me. He was closing himself off. The action itself pissed me off even more. He had the answer he had been looking for, and now that it implicated him instead of me, _he_ couldn’t look at _me_?

“What the fuck is that, Spencer?” I said, my voice laced with anguish and acridity, “What the **_fuck_**?”

“(Y/n), please. Sit down.” He still couldn’t look at me. All of my muscles were tensed, feeling like they were on fire. The calmness in his voice was driving me insane.

“I don’t want to fucking sit down, Spencer. I want to fucking leave.”

He turned back to me but only to bend over and pick up the box between us. His hands weren’t shaking. There wasn’t fear in his eyes anymore. It was just shame. Guilt. Pain.

“Please don’t leave. Please, just…” He held the box out to me as I stared at him, refusing to take it just yet. “Open the box, please.”

“Why should I?”

“Please, (y/n).” I didn’t want to hear him beg. I just wanted him to explain what was happening. If this was the only way to do that, I would play along.

I used the same slow, painful caution as the first time I had held it. It creaked just the same. When I looked inside, however, I found none of the incriminating evidence from before. Instead it only contained two things: a small silver token and a printed photograph.

The photograph was the same one he had sent to me before, the two of us in his car. Back before any of this happened, before the box ever came between us. I wanted it to comfort me, but it didn’t. A silver token only means 24 hours.

He could see the growing discomfort and fear, and he finally began to explain.

“I started going to meetings again. A couple weeks ago… I-” I stopped him, snapping the lid shut and shoving it back into his hands.

“ _Weeks_ ago, Spencer? _Weeks_?” The high pitched tone in my voice was only rivaled by the breathiness of disbelief, “You’re still close enough that you’re counting _weeks_?”

I wanted to sympathize with him because I knew he was trying, but I also wasn’t an idiot. I knew that this shit was more complicated than just making a decision one day and it working out. I knew it wasn’t as simple as wanting to quit and holding a token and a picture of someone you love.

“I didn’t want to tell you because it’s not your problem,” he pleaded. I laughed, my hands running through my hair as I began to pace. 

“You… you _fucked_ me to get through withdrawal, but you think this isn’t my problem?” I asked, turning to him before the words burst from my mouth, “You— You… You think I’m pregnant with your fucking _child_ but you can’t tell me you’re an addict? What the fuck, Spencer?”

It still felt wrong to call him that, but he didn’t correct me despite being defensive.

“What good would that have done?” He argued back, “What good could possibly have come out of that?”

“I would fucking know!” I wanted to be quieter, but my volume kept rising as years of unwanted memories slammed into me with full force, “I would trust you! I wouldn’t be blindsided finding fucking syringes and track marks on you! I’d know to use Narcan on you when I find you fucking dying in the bathroom!”

He was staring at me with wide eyes and an open mouth, like he hadn’t realized that I’d thought this through. But of course I had. It’s what you do when you find opiates in your boyfriend’s closet. You picture them dying. You feel that. It **stays**.

“Honestly, Spencer—Do you… Do you think I’m stupid? Did you think I wouldn’t notice something was wrong with you? You haven’t let me see your arms in over a month. And when I do you… You still put on your shirt before you come to hold me.”

Glancing down at his arms, he tried to maintain his breath, tried not to wince at the realization of it all. I could see him working backwards through time, rationalizing everything that had happened to reach any conclusion that wouldn’t be his fault.

“You’re not stupid.”

“I know that, Spencer. I know I’m not stupid. I’m asking if you think that.”

When he approached me this time, I let him. I allowed his hand to rest on my arm and trail up to my shoulder. The rest of the distance between us stayed.

“No, I don’t.”

I placed my hand over his and felt the way my body tried to relax. My mind was fighting me, and it wasn’t entirely his fault. I tried not to hate him for things he never did.

“Weeks ago,” I reminded myself aloud, “ _Weeks_. It wasn’t even me that convinced you to quit. My picture’s in that box, but it wasn’t about me, was it?”

“It was,” he concluded without explanation.

“Then why did you only stop now? Because you thought I was pregnant?”

“That wasn’t the only reason.” Somehow that only hurt worse. Because he might as well have said that it was the only reason.

“But it was the reason. _I_ wasn’t enough of a reason to stay. Because I’m not enough of _you_ for you to care.”

My hand tightened on his, and I told myself not to throw it off yet. Most of me just wanted to pull him closer. But the words had to come out.

“I’m _just_ enough that you keep me around but not enough that you aren’t ready to just… leave me behind.”

He tossed the box on his bed, bringing his other hand to my face while he tried to get me to believe him.

“(Y/n) you aren’t just a walking _womb_ to me. I’m not just here because I want you to have my child. I-I…” He trailed off at exactly the wrong time. Because the fact that he didn’t come out and say it now that he knew confirmed my greatest fear.

“Oh my god,” I interrupted, grabbing my stomach that threatened to jump into my throat once more, “That’s… That’s why you said you loved me.”

I stumbled backwards, pushing his hand away, as he shook his head at my words. “What? No-“

“You only said that because… because you thought I was pregnant. You don’t…”

For what felt like the millionth time, I tried to wander away from him. I tried to run from this conversation, from this moment, from this reality in the only way I knew how. But even if I made it to my car, I would never make it home.

“No, that’s not true. That’s not true at all. Don’t…”

He could see the lost expression on my face, and he pulled me closer to him. Both of his hands were on my recently wet cheeks, holding me to look nowhere else but him.

“I said I love you because I do. I love you… more than anything in this world. I would do anything for you.”

He was telling the truth. He was trying to show me that. I just didn’t know if I could trust him with it.

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave you and I… I intend to keep that promise.”

But I couldn’t help but remember another promise he had made me.

“What about when you said you wouldn’t let anything hurt me? Because you broke that one, Spencer. You broke it yourself.”

Silent tears were falling down my face, and he desperately tried to stop them any way he could. But the damage had been done, and he was here with the pieces. He might be a genius, but I wasn’t sure he could put this one together so quickly.

“Why were you even doing that, Spencer? You don’t stumble into Dilaudid. That’s…” I choked on my words, not able to understand how much of himself he had kept hidden. How much of him I’d missed, that I’d skimmed over. How much of him was the part of him I saw? What about the rest?

“That’s an impossible question, (y/n). You have to know that. That’s a question I can’t answer.”

I knew that. I knew what I was about to say next wasn’t fair to anyone, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“Was it because of me? Did I do this?”

The last thing I saw on his face before he wrapped me in an embrace was heartbreak. I’d said the one thing he never wanted to hear from my lips. The weight of it broke him into nothing, and that nothing collapsed in on me like a dying star.

“ ** _No_** ,” he cried, ** _“_** This is **_not_** your fault. Don’t you _ever_ … Don’t _ever_ say that this is your fault.”

With all the strength he had, he held me. His skillful hands with his brilliant mind tried to piece me together with the force of our embrace. The pieces of my shattered heart slid together effortlessly.

“You haven’t done _anything_ wrong.”

His breath was so heavy that I could hear it over the sounds of my loud sobs, my hands holding onto his shirt for dear life, hardly able to remain standing without his support around my waist.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

His hand cradled my head, holding me without any reservation. “You won’t,” he swore, “I promise, you won’t. I’m here. I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“How am I supposed to trust you now?”

His chin dragged over my head as he shook his head, rocking us gently in place. Being here, enveloped in his arms brought back so many memories. I clung to them like static, desperately seeking the other half of my soul that had been so cruelly torn away.

“That’s my problem to fix. Not yours.” He whispered, guiding me over to the bed and lifting me onto the mattress. “But I will. I will do everything I possibly can to earn back your trust. You are…”

Lifting my chin cautiously, he swallowed hard and licked his lips before he finished.

“You are _everything_ to me.”

Steeling my face, I clenched my jaw as I gave one final request, before I would let this die here.

“Please don’t ever hide something like that from me ever again. **Please** , Spencer.”

Without even an ounce of hesitation, he replied, “I won’t.”

I scratched the back of my head as I felt the childish urge rising in me. Deciding that it would be wrong not to, though, I lifted my much smaller hand to him, my pinky extended.

He smiled through the tears, his large finger wrapping around mine as he came as close as he could, looking at me like I was the whole world, the whole reason for his ever being born.

“I promise.” 

He barely finished the word before I grabbed him, pulling him down into a kiss instead. This time with even more longing, I put my whole body into our exchange. In the true Spencer fashion I’d come to love, he was everywhere, all at once.

At first he tried to keep it chaste, but I wouldn’t let him. I dragged him onto the bed, my body writhing against him and beckoning him even nearer.

Soon enough I was struggling to remove my own recently reapplied clothes. He helped me, but made no attempt to remove his own yet. I tilted my head away, kissing his jaw and neck as my hands reached to undo his pants.

Still a little hesitant, he tried to grab my wrist, looking at the way I rocked my body against him.

“Show me,” I shamelessly begged him, “Show me that you love me.”

So he did.

He took the time to look into my eyes as he undid each of the buttons in front of me, removing his shirt and practically throwing it across the room. His mouth then crashed down on me with the freedom that accompanies being in love.

The action took the breath from me, and suddenly the thing that scared me so badly was the one thing that brought me back to him. Because now that he was here and honest, I could not only share his pain, but also all of the light I held for him.

Our skin kindled between us, and his mouth on mine evoked wanton moans from both of us. Not soon enough, he had nestled his sex between my legs, pressing gently against my heat while I shuddered.

“I’ll show you,” he panted into my mouth, “I’lll show you _every day_ for the rest of my life.”

My limbs wrapped around him as the words filled my heart the same way he filled me as he slowly entered me again. My breath had been completely replaced with gasps, joyously celebrating where we were.

“I love you,” he said as he thrust into me, his hands holding onto my hips so he could better control the way our bodies blended together.

“I will love you forever,” his voice more like a growl, “Past the exhaustion of infinity, I will love you.” 

When his body came back down, it had the power of his words. His movements were forceful and rough with devotion, his pace picking up with each rushed word.

I didn’t ask him to look at me, but he did. His mouth was open to be able to maintain the energy he expended holding me against the bed.

“I’ve made so many mistakes, little girl.” He said with a smile, continuing to rock into me with renewed vigor. “You’re the only thing I’ve done right.”

It wasn’t fair. I wouldn’t have been able to stay calm if this conversation were under normal circumstances. I especially couldn’t do it here, with him grinding his hips against mine.

With the next thrust he bottomed out in me, holding himself there as he tried to calm down, his hand now sneaking between our bodies and pressing small circles against my clit.

Throwing my head back, I called out his name when I wanted to call out something else instead. I wanted to tell him the very words he told me not to. But he was a genius, and I wasn’t.

So I didn’t, instead calling out his name and hoping he would understand that I meant it the same.

“ _Spencer_.”

“I’m here.” He reminded me with his strained voice as he approached the release we’d been holding back for nearly a month.

As my body began to tense around him, my nails tore into his back, wanting him to feel how overwhelming this feeling was inside of me.

When I finally felt my body flutter around him in my release, I held his arms with everything I had. He sheathed himself fully before spilling into me, our bodies continuing to shake in unison.

“Forever,” I tested the word on my tongue.

“ _Forever,_ ” he responded in kind.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later, Reader tries to reconnect with Spencer.

You might think that dating Spencer Reid would make doing your homework way easier, but you would be wrong. Turns out that dating a genius includes him lecturing you on the importance of learning things yourself.

That’s why I had been sitting at his kitchen table with him for at least two hours, struggling to finish the last five problems on my assignment while he casually read a book in a language I couldn’t even place.

“Speenceeerrr.” I called from across the table, reaching in his direction with the saddest pout I could form.

“Don’t whine,” he answered without even looking up. Jerk.

“I’m bored,” I continued to whine without any shame, “Can I come sit on your lap?”

“No.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I realized he was in one of his stubborn moods. But that was fine. I could deal with stubborn.

“Please?” I asked, only to receive another immediate “No.”

This time I put both of my hands in front of me, pressing my breasts together while I leaned over the table as I asked, “… _Pretty_ please?”

That was enough to get him to finally lower his book, peeking across the table to see me staring at him with wide doe eyes and a coy smile.

“You’re very cute,” he said with an extremely brief smile, returning back to his book when he concluded, “Still no.”

“Come on!” I cried with a groan, “I promise I’ll behave.”

He laughed at that, idly flipping a page before speaking. “Oh, you do? You promise?”

“Yes!”

“Fine. Bring your homework,” he instructed, gesturing to me to come over without ever putting down his book.

I scrambled to collect everything, happily padding over to him and dumping my book, notepad, and pencils in front of him. Once I was there, though, he suddenly raised his hand to stop me.

“Take off your pants.” 

With a raised eyebrow, I shifted my hip to the side to inspect his suspiciously calm, vague demeanor.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” 

Considering that response was completely unhelpful but also incredibly hot, I listened. I tried to make a little bit of a show out of it, but his eyes were glued to the page in front of him until my pants finally hit the ground.

“Take off the rest.”

It was then that he started to look at me. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, licking his lips as he began undoing his own pants.

The sound of his buckle coming undone was enough to spark butterflies in my stomach, and I began removing my underwear with a renewed vigor.

“Don’t look so excited, little girl,” he warned in that low register that usually accompanied his more dominant persona. I considered arguing back, but ultimately just let out a playful giggle.

After he had finally removed his bottoms enough to reveal himself, I bounced on my toes as I waited for the command I knew was coming.

“Sit down.”

There it was. Allowing him to guide my hips to turn me around so that I was facing the table, I swung my leg over him to straddle his lap, lowering down onto him slowly.

And slow was the only word for it. He didn’t allow me to move more than an inch every few seconds, his breath hitching each time until I was fully seated on him.

I could feel the blood rushing to my face, my mouth hung open with hungry breaths. When I tried to begin moving my hips, however, he halted me with a firm grip on my hips.

He clicked his tongue in my ear, digging his fingers into my sides as he held me there. “I don’t think so. You’re going to sit here and stay _very_ still until I tell you to move.”

“But—“ I barely got a word in edgewise before he countered.

“You promised to behave. Now do your homework. I want to finish what I’m reading.”

I huffed, struggling to move one more time and ultimately failing. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do your work and be patient and maybe I’ll fuck you, or get up and get nothing. Those are your options.”

I was certain that if I could see him, he would have that clever, devilish smirk he always wore when he was fucking with me. But I forced myself to keep my eyes straight ahead, leaning forward to grab my pencil from the table to hopefully finish my work quickly. If he wasn’t going to check it, I could just bullshit it.

Of course, as soon as my pencil hit the page he shifted underneath me in a very purposeful way, forcing himself even deeper into me.

“Fuck!” I gasped, gripping my pencil tighter as I arched my back. 

“Language.”

With a deep breath, I forced a smile as I issued an extremely sarcastic apology.

“Sorry, _daddy_.”

After that he was much kinder, allowing me to work without any more rude interruptions. Granted, my maximum capacity to function was still _very_ low, and it took me at least ten minutes to finish three of the five questions.

It was hard enough having him inside of me, the warm throbbing of his cock like an extension of myself at this point, but once he finished the book, it was a completely different level of impossible. Because no sooner did the book hit the table than were both of his hands on me.

One hand remained rooted on my hip, halting any attempts at movement while the other crept up to fondle my chest. I took the new ministrations to be permission to move, but he quickly cut off that train of thought as he leaned his chest against my back.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Daddy—“ I desperately whined, my hips moving with a mind of their own even as he tried to hold me down. Spencer was still dedicated to making it worse, moving my hair to one side and latching his mouth onto my neck.

“Keep going,” he mumbled into the skin. 

So I tried. I cannot stress enough how hard I tried, my mind functioning much like a toddler being told to focus on math while sitting in front of a fucking funfetti birthday cake.

“Wrong.” Spencer whispered in my ear, his eyes apparently watching my botched attempts at my homework. With a general sound of displeasure, I erased my previous answer and changed it.

“Still wrong.”

Breaking the scene for just a second, I hoarsely begged, “ _Please_ , Spencer.”

He must have sensed my mounting frustration, because soon he was palming my breast much harder, his hand finally letting my hips begin to rock.

“Tell me, is it just because my dick is in you, or are you always this clueless?”

The breath left my lungs in short bursts, his words both hurtful and hot against my ear. I didn’t let it faze me, still scribbling some answer on the sheet while I spoke. “I-I told you before I can’t… I can’t focus when you’re inside me.”

He lowered his hands, running them down my bare thighs before dragging them back up, leaving angry red marks in his wake.

“You should’ve thought about that before you asked to sit on my lap.”

This time, he lightly nibbled on my ear once he stopped talking, laughing at the way a shiver ran through my body.

“I didn’t think you would do… this,” I quietly confessed.

“So you just wanted to tease me? And now you’re mad I beat you at your own game?”

Rocking back and forth, I groaned, “It wasn’t a game, I just wanted to sit on your lap!”

“And now you _are_ sitting on my lap and you’re _still_ whining.” He retorted, his hands returning to their heavy petting wherever they could reach.

“Because I want you to fuck me!”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

If I had been sexually frustrated before, now I was essentially feral. The harder I tried to move, the more he tried to stop me until I got fed up, forcing out a few hostile words.

“ **Fuck** you.”

His hand flew up to my face, grabbing my cheeks roughly and forcing my lips to pucker.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Why would I listen to you if you aren’t going to fuck me?” I muttered through my contorted face, now struggling to lift off his lap.

He wasn’t having that, though, and roughly tugged me back down onto him while he thrusted up into me.

“Because I said so,” he ever so kindly reminded. 

“ _Fuck_!” I cried out at the rough intrusion, continuing with an even angrier exclamation, “ **Fuck you**!”

“Fine.”

I’m not sure what it was about his voice when he uttered that one syllable, but dread coursed through my veins. I couldn’t tell exactly what was coming, but I knew he was going to have fun doing it.

“If you want me to fuck you, I will.”

Before I could protest, he had swept the items on the table onto the ground and lifted me off of him. He dropped me harshly against the table, standing so he could have the upper ground.

“After all, you have quite a bit of naughty behavior to answer for. And right now, I’m more than happy to administer the punishment.”

I rolled my eyes at the way he always managed to drag these things out. We both knew I was going to be a brat, so why waste our time with threats I clearly wanted him to follow through on?

“Just shut up and fuck me already.”

Spencer bitterly laughed, staring down at me with far too much amusement as his fingers brushed over my lips.

“How badly do you want it, little girl?” He said as he continued the trend of sudden, rough movements by shoving his fingers down my throat. “I should’ve warned you not to do anything to me you don’t expect me to do to you in return.”

Gagging lightly on his fingers pressing down against my tongue, I only felt my need for him to fuck me skyrocket. Through the lustful haze, I managed to remember what he had done to me in this situation… and how I had responded.

I bit down on his fingers just hard enough to leave a small indentation on them, and he jerked his hand back the same way I had.

His slap across my face was just as hard, too. The sound filled the room, and I had to bite back a moan at the way my cheek stung where his hand had hit.

When I turned my face back to him, I bit my lip before smiling.

“Do it again,” I giggled.

But he didn’t listen, because of course he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed my hips, flipping me onto my stomach on the table, my face pressed against the wood.

“I don’t take orders from you, bitch.”

Another shiver ran down my spine at his words paired with the sound of his belt slowly being removed from the loops of his pants.

“And honestly? I’m tired of hearing your voice.” He finished, his hand reaching around to open my mouth. He worked the belt between my teeth like a bit for a horse, tugging back on the material. With my head craned back, I began to rub my legs together, already missing the way it felt to be filled by him.

I tried to groan in disapproval, but it just came out as garbled noise. Spencer didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s been so long that you’ve forgotten I’m not as nice as you. That I’ve been taming brats a _lot_ longer than you.”

For a moment I was left there just like that, laid out on his kitchen table for his consumption. I could tell from the silence that he was enjoying watching me squirm, taking in the brief image of me submitting to him without a fight.

But then the moment ended with one swift thrust into me. The force was enough to rattle the table and I grunted from the impact.

“If you’ve got a problem, don’t bother trying to tell me, because I don’t fucking care.” As he spoke, he gave a thrust after each clause, somehow becoming progressively more aggressive.

I’d felt him like this once before, although under different circumstances. This time he wasn’t just using me to get through pain. This was something else.

The freedom I could feel flowing between us was intoxicating, and for once in my life I didn’t want to fight him. I didn’t have to. He was already doing everything I could have ever asked of him.

At least, that’s what I thought until he started talking again.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his hips slowly to make sure he was fully entering me with each thrust. “You really love keeping your daddy’s cock warm, don’t you, little girl?”

It was always strange, to feel the duality of Spencer. The way that his words could sound so much like praise while littered with downright filthy words. Or how he used one hand to gag me with his belt and the other tenderly caressed my sides.

“You’re so good at being a pretty little slut for me. Letting me use you.”

His voice was so smooth, with a confidence I was unaccustomed to hearing from him. My fingernails scraped at the table, trying to fight against the way my entire body slid against the wood.

I could feel my muscles desperately clenching around him, my feet trying to remain on the floor. The light struggle didn’t go unnoticed, with a dark laugh coming from Spencer as he leaned over top of me, pressing me down with the weight of his body. 

“I don’t understand how a slut like you has such a tight little cunt.”

A loud moan escaped from the little space between my teeth and the leather, and I could feel the saliva dripping down my chin. Tears had already started forming in my eyes, my cheekbone still raw from his hand now burning against the table.

“What’s it going to take to break you, huh? Or have I already?” He whispered as his fingers gripped my hips with bruising force.

“No fight left in you, little girl? You gonna give up? You gonna cry?” He mocked, earning my first attempt at a response. The gag got in my way, though, and it just came out as a wrecked sob as he entered me with another rough thrust.

“Speak up.”

The next noise out of my mouth was a guttural groan, my back arching enough to lift my face from the table and loosen the belt against my lips.

“Here, I’ll make it easier for you.” He said before using his hand to wrench the accessory from my teeth, tossing it in front of me on the table. I could see my teeth marks against the leather.

“S-Spe…” I tried, but couldn’t even finish his name. My mind seemed somewhere else, some place to which only he could take me. Nothing else mattered here; nothing except pleasing him.

Which is what made his nails against my skin so exciting. But still, it wasn’t nearly as exciting as the way he continued to laugh at the mess he made of me.

“How pathetic. You can’t even say my name? Doesn’t matter anyway.” He stood back up, providing him the leverage to drive further into me once more, pulling my hips back against him with both hands now.

“A useful cunt doesn’t talk. So don’t even think about bothering with your little _safe word_ now. I’m not stopping until I’m finished taking what’s mine.”

I’m not sure if it was from the way my lips caught on the wood, how hard I was biting down on my lip, or a mark from the belt, but I could taste blood somewhere on my lips. 

“Don’t stop.” My voice was weak and hoarse from disuse, but the words were audible, and that’s all I cared about.

I was a little surprised, though, when Spencer immediately withdrew. Then I realized that I had inadvertently given him another order, and he didn’t seem too happy about the fact it was one he wanted to follow.

With much more strength than needed, he lifted me by my arm and flipped me onto my back. My joints had given up even when the rest of me hadn’t, leaving me lolling like a rag doll under his will.

I could only imagine what he saw, my cheek only slightly less red than the blood tainted spit covering my chin as I held my body open to him.

The smirk on his face was positively feral, like a predator admiring his catch before going in for the kill.

“You’re so fucking filthy. You actually like this, don’t you?”

When I didn’t immediately answer, he brought his hand against my cheek much lighter this time. Although I knew it wasn’t a smart response, I couldn’t help but giggle at the way it caused goosebumps to ripple over my skin.

His hips snapped forward, entering me completely all at once. Spencer couldn’t stop himself from moaning, belying his stoic nature in scenes like this. He was enjoying himself so much that he couldn’t hide it anymore, and the thought just made my heart beat harder.

“Fuck me _harder_ , daddy!” I suddenly begged, rocking my hips forward in time with his thrusts.

“God, you’re such a dirty bitch,” he responded, doing exactly what I’d asked by driving into me as the table screeched against the floor. It didn’t last long, with his hand coming up to my throat and clenching my airway within seconds. There was no warning this time.

“You’re nothing but a little toy that likes being fucked like a cheap whore.”

I would have screamed out in agreement, but I could barely manage to breathe under his unrelenting grip. Instead, my eyes began to roll to the back of my head, my mouth open in an attempt to take in any air.

“Go ahead, go to sleep, little girl. I don’t need you to be awake for this part.”

The butterflies in my stomach had migrated to my chest, filling every inch of space that used to be filled with air. The burning in my face was even hotter now, and I honestly felt I might collapse in on myself if he didn’t finish soon.

Luckily, his hips began to falter the longer he watched me scraping at his hand on my throat. With one more thrust, he threw his head back with closed eyes.

The sweat on his brow showed just how much of himself he gave to this moment, and I couldn’t have been more grateful. Seeing him come undone inside of me was one of my favorite past times.

“Fuck!” He growled through clenched teeth. His fingers twitched harder against my neck as I felt him spill his release deep inside of me, his hips still trying to push further into me. Once he opened his eyes, it’s like he suddenly remembered that I still hadn’t taken a breath, my face draining of color before he quickly lifted his hand.

I gasped, my lungs both burning and finally relaxing as they filled with air. My energy nearly drained, I hoped to god that he wasn’t planning on making me move anytime soon. For once, I was actually grateful that he hadn’t tried to get me off, too. I’m not sure I could take it.

I closed my eyes and laughed to myself about the irony of me not protesting him staying inside me now. Soon enough, he had pulled out of me, muttering another string of curse words as he tried to find the ability to walk the few feet over to the counter.

The sound of running water felt so far away and so serene. I smiled, knowing what was coming before it happened.

Sure enough, his hands were on me once more, cleaning away the evidence he’d left behind with a warm paper towel.

My face was last, with him taking extra care to be gentle. My eyes fluttered open, looking at the way he seemed to look straight into my soul, seeking any validation he could find that I was going to be alright.

“How are you, little girl?” He asked anyway, and I just sucked my bottom lip into my mouth as I smiled.

“ _Dirty_.”

I had meant it as a joke, but I could see a flash of guilt in his eyes. Grabbing his forearm, I started to try to sit up against my body’s wishes. Something told me he needed me to be closer to him. He needed me to be okay.

“Can you stand up?” He asked, supporting my body weight with both hands on my back.

“Yeah, I think so,” I laughed.

Once I was upright, I realized that while he was still fully dressed, my legs were fucking _freezing_. Spencer noticed, too, and already had a plan in place for this situation.

“Let me clean you up.”

“You already did,” I responded with a nervous glance when his fingers ran through a piece of my hair hanging in my face. He just gave me that judgmental, deadpan expression that told me he knew I was trying to get out of something.

“Come on,” he said with a light pat on my ass before guiding me towards the bathroom. “We need to warm you up, anyway.”

I couldn’t argue with that; honestly, the idea of a shower sounded delightful. Still, some part of me felt strangely awkward about something so intimate. I clearly wasn’t nervous about him seeing me naked.

The thought of him taking care of me, delicately cleaning away any remaining evidence of sin, just got me much too excited. It didn’t take me long to realize that my apprehension wasn’t going to stop him.

He kept his hand wrapped around mine the whole time, even as he turned on the shower and checked the water. I didn’t mind, enjoying the glimpse into domestic life with Spencer Reid.

Although I was perfectly capable of doing it myself, I let him take off my remaining clothes before helping him remove his.

Steam filled the room that was remarkably calm. The usual suffocating sexual tension felt worlds away as Spencer helped me into the shower. My muscles immediately responded to the hot water, and I let out a happy sigh as I heard him enter behind me.

His hands were back on me, gently caressing every curve of my body under the water. Still, his touch was not sexual in the traditional sense. He pulled me closer, letting the water fall over both of us until there was nothing dry left.

Normally it would uncomfortable, for one of us to have to remain outside of the water, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind. It was like all of the focus he had in that supercharged brain could only be placed on me. Keeping me happy, safe, and warm.

And I was.

I couldn’t tell if he knew that. It felt like he didn’t.

With my back still to him, I heard him rustling with the travel-sized bottles I’d started to leave behind. I wondered to myself if I should just start leaving regular items now.

I was distracted from the thought by his fingers diligently working through my hair and on my scalp, massaging the product into a lather. For a touch I claimed to be nonsexual, I felt it all over my body.

Tilting my head further back, I nearly fell over onto him in the pleasurable haze he’d created. He just gave a small chuckle, nudging me back up so he could continue.

Before he finished, I gave a soft sigh and a mewl. When he turned me around to begin helping me wash it out, I saw the goofy smile on his face.

“I love you.” He said it like it needed to be said at all. As if he weren’t tenderly caring for me in that very moment.

A selfish part of me hated when he said it, because I still wasn’t sure when I could say it back. It seemed like there was never a right time. Before, he had been worried it would be about the suspected pregnancy, and then it had been the drugs. Now, I feared it would be swallowed into that post-coital dysphoria he always brought up.

Thankfully, he didn’t make me say anything.

“Close your eyes.” He said, tilting my chin back and maneuvering his fingers through my hair to rid it of the shampoo.

It had been a long time since I’d felt cared for like this. I didn’t know how to react. My heart was overwhelmed.

He repeated the process with the conditioner, and I remained silent once again. But Spencer didn’t seem like he missed our usual snarky repartee. I began to worry something deeper was wrong… again.

That thought was an unfortunate one to have, because it caused me to turn around. I took his hands in mine, stretching out his arms to see the remnants of bruises still peppered over his skin.

“Don’t think like that, little girl.”

His voice was harsh and crackling, filled to the brim with self loathing that I always hated to hear.

“They’re fading away, and I’m still here. There…” he paused, swallowing and trying to keep himself steady before continuing, “there won’t be any more.”

But there was still a struggle in his words. I wasn’t looking to chastise him, and it hurt to see he expected it. Which is why I began to slowly shift so that he was under the water, a weird mix of a smile masquerading as a pout.

Once he was under the water, he made a face at the way it hit him differently at his height. I ignored it, grabbing his soap from the side of the tub and pouring it into my hand.

He didn’t say anything when I started to run my hands over his chest and back. He just watched me with a quiet reverence, his eyes occasionally closing with a sigh of relief.

They stayed shut when I moved to his arms, wishing I could just wash away what was left of his scars.

“I’m not worried.” I finally spoke as I took his hands in mine, smiling at the way my fingers could be so much smaller than his and still fit so perfectly in his hands. Using the positive inertia, I wrapped my arms around him and let the water wash over both of us like a third member of our embrace.

His hands stroked my back so delicately that I barely noticed them at all. As much as I enjoyed the dramatic change of pace from our earlier activities, there was something undoubtedly off with the way he was holding me now.

I let it go for a minute longer, just so we could make out way back out of the tub. With a speed that I would never expect from someone who had exerted as much energy as he had, Spencer had wrapped me in a towel and left to fetch me his clothes for me to wear in an instant. We both knew that I’d brought my own change of clothes, but neither of us spoke about it. It was much preferable, we had each privately decided, for me to be swamped in the fabrics he loved.

Not a moment too soon we were laying in his bed, curled into a messy pile of limbs trying to convince the other that our bodies really couldn’t exist without the other. I’m not sure if it was the way his fingers still dusted over me like they would shatter me or that look in his eyes, but I couldn’t ignore the feeling any longer.

“Babe,” I cautiously began, taking his hand and pressing it fully against the cheek he so clearly wanted to touch, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It was curt and unconvincing, so I continued.

“Are you _sure_? You know how I feel about you lying to me.”

He sighed, rolling onto his back and away from me. His arm covered his face, but I could still see the way his eyebrows furrowed beneath it.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

At this point I was just so grateful that we’d finally made it far enough into our relationship that he didn’t feel the need to lie to me more than once. Still, I was terrified by what he could possibly say next. What was he going to tell me next? That he had a secret child? A wife?

“I just… Sometimes after we have sex I feel…”

He peeked at me, probably noting the confusion and anxiety clear in my features.

“… Like I’m the _worst_ person in the world.”

Those previous emotions were quickly replaced with an exasperated and false gasp as I pulled myself over to him.

“Well, that does wonders for my self-esteem, Dr. Reid.” I laughed, looking up at him from where my head rested against his chest. His heart even sounded troubled somehow.

“No, it’s not that. God, no. You’re amazing.”

“I know, right?” I continued to joke, hoping that it would make his vulnerability at least a little bit easier. It seemed to work, and his arms found their home around me once again.

“I spend almost all of my time, every day, trying to find and stop murderers and rapists. The worst possible people on this earth; people that everyone agrees are evil incarnate, and then I come home and…”

He trailed off, but it was obvious what he was going to say. It was hard to hear him compare himself to the men he hunted. He didn’t talk often about work, but he’d said enough for my chest to hurt at the implication.

“Spencer…”

“How can I feel like I’m a good person when I get off on hurting something as beautiful and innocent as you?”

“I am _not_ innocent,” I scoffed, pushing at his chest to prop myself up again. Positioning myself to hang above him, I smiled when his nose twitched from the way my hair tickled his face. His eyes flickered back and forth, seeing something I’m not sure I would ever understand.

“Yes, you are. It’s one of the many things I love most about you.”

His hand on the back of my head convinced me to close the gap between us. I planted a soft yet meaningful kiss on his lips, but it wasn’t enough to stop the racing thoughts.

“Spencer, you aren’t anything like those guys.” I assured him, running my hand through his damp hair that had just started to curl.

“I’m not always so sure.” His eyes had finally met mine, unsure and petrified all at once.

“Well, I am.” I didn’t know how to explain it to him. He was always the one who had the words to explain things. All I had were quotes from people much smarter than myself.

“Look me in my eyes right now and tell me that you would still enjoy it if you honestly knew I wasn’t having fun.”

“I don’t know.”

I could recognize that he didn’t mean it. Those endorphins he was always talking about were screwing with his head. I’d seen his reactions when I was in pain. He did _not_ like it.

“Spencer. You’re just going to have to believe me when I say that you are a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known.”

His tongue swept over his lips before he bit down on it, trying to swallow his doubts before he could give them any more life.

“I love playing with you, and I trust you with my life because I know you would never do anything to risk it. Okay?”

Spencer looked like he was finally starting to get it. Either that or he had just realized I wasn’t going to change my mind. Regardless, he gave a small pout as he said, “Okay.”

Shimmying further onto him, I swung my leg over his hip so I was practically sprawled over him like a blanket.

“Now tell me you love me,” I teased, settling onto him while he groaned at the sudden weight.

“I do love you.” He laughed when he said it, which was my goal in the first place.

With feigned bashfulness I cooed, “Awww, thanks.”

“You’re such a dork.”

The insult was such a ridiculous notion to me that I was convinced I had heard him wrong.

“ _Wow_ , I’m going to pretend like the man with 3 PhDs didn’t just call _me_ a dork.”

I nestled my face to his neck, feeling the way his heartbeat was fluctuating as we began to settle into the calmness of a simple night together.

“It takes a dork to love a dork,” he opined in the dorkiest manner possible. But considering how those words in his voice brought so much joy to my heart, I chose to accept his hypothesis.

“Pffft. Go to sleep, old man.” I muttered, reaching up to loosely cover his mouth with my hand. The feel of his mouth curling into a smile before kissing my palm was all I needed to feel safe enough to sleep.

“Thank you, (y/n).”

“Anytime.”

— _The Next Morning_ —

The next morning felt a lot like the way the previous night had ended. I swear, it was almost like Spencer and I hadn’t moved an inch throughout the night. Maybe we really had been that tired.

Either way, I wasn’t tired anymore. I knew that if I stayed splayed out on top of Spencer while I was this restless, I would wake him up anyway. So I slowly inched off, hoping not to disturb him too much.

To my surprise, he barely stirred. Don’t get me wrong; his arms followed my body and required all of my strength to peel them off of me.

“Babe, I have to get up. I’ll be right back.” I mumbled, practically crawling out of his grip while he grumbled nonsense into the pillow.

He was so adorable that I almost felt bad about leaving him there alone. Almost.

See, Spencer had done so much for me in our relationship up to this point that it was starting to feel lopsided. I didn’t like that. There is something about owing people anything that doesn’t sit right with me.

That’s why, after sleepily brushing my teeth and trying to control the disaster of a bird’s nest on my head that resulted from sleeping on wet hair, I set out to do some good old fashioned chores.

It wasn’t hard to figure out where Spencer kept things - one of the perks of having a boyfriend with such a hatred of germs, I guess.

I don’t honestly know how long I spent topping off the cleaning around his apartment, but it couldn’t have been _that_ long. The place was basically already spotless. Once I was satisfied, I picked up the thing I had been avoiding: my homework.

And that’s when Spencer conveniently awoke, ready to distract me from finishing the last few problems once more.

“I never thought I’d see you willingly doing your homework.”

I turned around from the couch, smiling at the state of my sleepy boyfriend still wrapped in a blanket. Adorable.

“Well, someone distracted me last night.”

“Oh, did they?” He joked as he came over to plant a kiss on the top of my head before making his normal beeline to make his morning cup of coffee. But after I heard the familiar clinking of mugs, I paused my work with a smile.

“… Did you… did you do the dishes?”

“Yeah, why?” I called back, hearing the loud grinding of the gears moving in his mind.

“And made coffee.”

“Yes.”

I remained looking forward because somehow it made his confusion all the better. His hand was sliding against the counter top before moving to the stovetop, where I heard him moving the grates.

“… Did you clean my entire kitchen?”

“You’re very perceptive, Dr. Reid.”

He laughed, walking back over to me from the other direction with a pleasant, if not goofy, grin. He was going to say something else, but stopped when he noticed the basket filled with clean laundry on the floor next to the couch.

“You did my _laundry_? How long have you been awake? How did I sleep through this?”

Although he bent over to pick up the basket and turned to carry it off to the bedroom, he kept his eyes on me, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “A couple hours? You must have been tired.”

His eyes narrowed in an attempt to see through me, to learn the secrets of how I had managed to out-Spencer Reid him with my particularity.

“What? It’s not a very big place, Spencer. And most of your clothes are dry cleaned.”

As he walked away, I heard him groan. Like he should be embarrassed by the state of his apartment. Honestly, his starting point was cleaner than even the best deep clean would do for my apartment. If anyone was embarrassed, it was me.

“You should’ve woken me up,” he called from the hallway.

“You looked too cute!” I shouted back when he disappeared around the corner. “I didn’t want to ruin it. You don’t get enough sleep.”

Upon his return, he stood above me with a sarcastic scrutiny. I put my pencil down, looking up at him from my cross legged position on his couch.

“Is this what domestic life with you is like?” He asked, unable to hide his admiration any longer.

“Only when you’re nice to me.” I teased, reaching forward to grab the blanket still hanging over his shoulders to pull him closer to me.

“I’m _always_ nice to you.”

“Then I guess that’s your answer.”

Losing his balance just a bit, he awkwardly stumbled onto the couch, plopping down next to me with the total lack of grace I’d come to expect from him.

“Well, thank you. You didn’t have to do any of that.”

“I wanted to.” I admitted, brushing his unruly curls out of his face. “Because now you have nothing to distract you from paying attention to me.”

He groaned, craning his neck away from me at the words, “Should’ve known there was a catch.”

“Oh yes,” I continued, climbing onto his lap with no resistance on his part. “I was thinking you and I could go to the park and…”

“Don’t say it,” he warned, raising a finger to my lips.

I didn’t care, and shouted past the digit, anyway.

“Please, Spencer! Take me for a picnic! Just once!”

“You know how I feel about picnics.”

Now it was my turn to whine, grabbing his hand between mine and lowering it, leaning forward in the hopes it would distract him.

“You can eat before and just feed me fruit. _Spoil me rotten._ ”

My distractions didn’t work, and he didn’t even bother trying to kiss me back. He just spoke hurriedly into my lips.

“It’s not even just the food I’m worried about! Did you see the numbers of Lyme infections in the county?”

My eyebrows popped up, and I stuck my tongue out for a second in my excitement.

“Ooh, Doctor, you can check me for ticks,” I cooed.

Closing the space between us, I gave him a light, chaste kiss. Despite returning it, he also gave back a pout.

“Please don’t make me do this.”

Conveniently, he had forgotten that I was much more experienced at pouting. What I did next wasn’t really a pout, though, it was more like puppy dog eyes and a childish grin meant to evoke the strongest sense of guilt.

He dropped his head back, closing his eyes like he didn’t have an eidetic memory that would burn my cute nonsense into his brain.

“Why does the begging only work one way?”

“Is that a yes?” The excitement was clear in my voice, which must have sealed the deal.

Because he just sighed, running his hands up and down my waist.

“Fine. But I’m going to check you for ticks after and I promise you will not like it.”

This time when his hands made their way down my body, I rocked my hips against his. I could feel his erection already straining under his pants.

And he was acting like he was actually disappointed.

“You always say that and I always like it.” I pointed out, reorienting my heat over his erection and continuing my motions back and forth against him.

“Oh, really?” He tried to act calm, but I felt the way his fingers got tighter, his hips bucking up every couple of seconds.

“Yes,” I breathily whispered into his mouth before melting into a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

It didn’t last long, with his hand threading through my hair and pulling lightly to expose my neck to him.

“Tell me what you like, little girl.”

When he uttered the words, I noticed he was placing small kisses against the same pattern of his hand that had been wrapped around my neck. The thought alone consumed me, and I dug my fingers into his shoulders, gasping at the sensation of his tongue swirling patterns over my pulse.

“ _You_ ,” was the only syllable I could express.

The light chuckle he gave sent shivers down my spine, his bottom lip dragging over my skin while he savored the newly forming memories.

“I never got to spoil you last night,” he reminded, bringing a hand down to stroke my thigh.

“Oh, I wasn’t disappointed at all.” I was going to continue, telling him that he didn’t have to get me off every time. Then again, I knew that he wasn’t going to accept that answer, anyway. Regardless, he spoke quickly and with confidence when he said, “I’m still going to make up for it. Take off your pants.”

I wasted no time springing up from my position with a cheeky little taunt. “This sounds familiar.”

“But _this time_ you were a good girl.”

The distinction was not lost on me, and I had to admit hearing him call me a good girl in this context turned me on more than I had thought it would. Apparently, I was wrong for thinking I was entirely a brat, because right now I just wanted to hear him praise me.

“Maybe I should do that more often,” I happily hummed as I began to straddle him once more, pausing for a moment for him to lay languid, open-mouthed kisses against my breasts. 

He paused just for a second to growl, “Don’t you dare.”

I didn’t bother saying ‘ _I told you so_ ’ because he was already pulling my hips down so that I could sink onto his length. Biting my lip to try and stifle the full moan, my fingers returned to their place embedded in his skin.

“Fuck,” he spoke under his breath and through a clenched jaw, “I don’t think you understand what you do to me.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. I could only guess the effect I had on him by just how stupid the bona fide genius got when I was around.

When I could look into his eyes again I pushed his hair back with both hands, trying to express my feelings with each roll of my hips.

“Tell me about it,” I purred, my mouth hanging open as he started to thrust up in slow, synchronized movements.

Through the heavy panting and strained motions of his muscles, he spoke with a clarity that demonstrated how long he’d thought about his words.

“I just… I’ve never been able to picture a future until the day I met you.”

My heart stopped for a moment before continuing its strong, hard rhythm against the inside of my rib cage. I wanted to see the look on his face, but he had buried his head into my neck and hair. Each inhale seemed so purposeful, reminding me that I smelled of his soap.

I smiled at the way his hands felt just like they had last night, holding themselves back from claiming me with the rough, greedy nature they so often did.

“I can recall any minor detail from any point in the past. I relive them so often, but the future? That was always this terrifying, suffocating concoction of unknowns until that night.”

It almost felt like I was there again, feeling the bass shaking the chair I was sitting in when I kissed him for the very first time. I thought about the compassion in his eyes when he learned the truth about our situation.

Although it had only a few months since then, it felt like a lifetime ago. I couldn’t and didn’t want to remember a life before Spencer Reid.

Once again reading my mind, he stopped laying kisses against my shoulders to hold my face in his hand, stroking my cheek while our bodies continued in their need.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

When he thrust up this time, his eyes shut and his mouth hung open as he pulled our foreheads together. I continued to watch him, watching how his eyebrows furrowed and he tried to focus on remembering this moment more than usual.

“A future with you, huh?” I whispered, my features softening as he struggled to look at me through his own infatuated haze. “It sounds nice.”

He smiled, and I continued before he could take my lips with his own.

“A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies.” My attempts to excite him were absolutely working, because with each idea I provided, the urgency with which he pulled me down increased.

“Just a normal, domestic life,” I laughed, my legs beginning to shake as he held me against him with each movement, “with _Dr. and Mrs. Reid_.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered without providing any other answer before pressing his thumb against my puckered lips.

I took it into my mouth quickly, lavishing it with my tongue as much as I could before he removed it. His hand then shot down to where our bodies were joined, beginning to rub my clit in rough, circular strokes.

The trembling that was once contained to my legs spread throughout my entire body, the moans spilling out of my mouth without a care in the world for who might hear. As long as Spencer was enjoying my responses, that’s all that mattered to me.

I wanted him to see the things I could never say. The way I felt whenever I was with him.

“Don’t tempt me, little girl. Keeping talking like that and I’ll steal you away from whatever plans you had.” He spoke in my ear with that low register, his voice barely above a whisper.

I could hardly breathe, and I spent all my energy trying to follow his words.

“Take me.” I urged, feeling the tension in my muscles approaching their breaking point. “Take me, Spencer. _Please_.”

It was with those words that I felt my body give into him, my muscles gripping him and begging him to join me in my release. But he waited, giving a few more rough, deep thrusts into me.

“Just like a true daddy’s girl.” He chuckled, watching as I came undone, my body eventually going half limp in his arms. “You’re already spoiled rotten.”

My skin was sticky with sweat, and the sounds of our bodies colliding together in the dim morning light continued to overwhelm my senses. He seemed to enjoy the way he could clean me just to dirty me all over again, and I almost made a comment about it, but I couldn’t find the words in time.

Instead, I just whined, “I want more. I want it.”

He didn’t respond with words because he didn’t have to, his broken, shaky thrusts spoke for him. Using both hands to slam my body down against him one last time, he gave a guttural moan against the side of my face.

“It’s all for you, little girl.” He said between breaths. I cried out at the sensation of him filling me, my muscles clutching onto him like a vice, begging him to stay with me until he was completely spent.

He took the offer, pulling my body against his and leaning us back while we caught our breath. Eventually, I was the one to speak, my words suddenly sleepy and disoriented from the emotional toll of our encounter.

“Thank you.”

His chest still rose and fell with his deep breaths, trying to stabilize his heart before he spoke.

“For what?”

“Loving me.”

That look on his face was back; the one that begged me not to say the words back to him. I hated it. I wanted to tell him the truth, and now felt like such a perfect moment. But at the same time, I understood why he didn’t want it associated with sex.

‘ _Right now you just think that because your body is coursing with endorphins and adrenaline,_ ’ I could hear him saying, ‘ _Once that goes away, you might find you feel differently about me_.’

But it wasn’t true. I would feel this way about him forever. I already knew that with every fiber of my being. Then again, there was no point in arguing with him.

I would just continue to show him however I could, through loads of laundry and sleepy kisses. My ‘I love you’s would be subtly explaining who got what side of the bed and whether our children would look more like me or him.

At least for now. Until he decided he was ready, or until I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I really hoped it would be the former.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer finally meets Reader’s roommate while the two prepare for a picnic. After Spencer lectures Reader on the dangers of the outdoors, the two face a different kind of danger at the bank.

Although I’d been inside (Y/n)’s apartment several times now, I couldn’t say I’d ever actually looked much at my surroundings. It felt strange to admit that, mostly because I felt like I was doing something wrong; like I was a traitor to my job.

But then again, it felt worse to try to profile her. The few times I had made it obvious, she had made it very clear it was unappreciated. I could understand why.

So, before we even got to her door, I tried to quiet the voices screaming in my head, telling me to look for clues to all the unknowns about her. It wasn’t because I was expecting her to be hiding anything; I just wanted to know everything about her.

I could simply wait for her to tell me, though. We had all the time in the world, right?

“Laura, I’m home!” She called out immediately after breaching the entrance, following the exclamation with a very hurried request. “Spencer is here so please don’t be weird!”

The response was a calm, steady series of footfalls down the hall. The girl stuck her head around the corner, peeking at the two of us with a devilish grin.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Reid.”

I told myself I probably shouldn’t be this nervous. If she was friends with (y/n), she was most likely a decent person. But let’s just say women around that age had never been particularly kind to me. They brought to the surface a lot of memories I’d tried very hard to bury.

She didn’t put her hand out to shake, which told me they’d already probably talked about me more than I’d have liked. _‘Wait,_ ’ I thought to myself, ‘ _Is it okay to profile her roommate_?’

“I’m going to go get a basket together. Wait in the living room, my kitchen is a disaster.”

Before I could argue, she had already disappeared, leaving me stranded in the hallway with her roommate who looked ready to cause trouble. I just hoped it wouldn’t the kind that revolved around me.

She waved a hand in front of her, motioning for me to make my way into the living room. Once we were there, she immediately took a seat, but I remained standing. Felt better to be able to escape.

The silence was awkward and suffocating. I could feel her staring at me, but she wasn’t saying anything. It felt wrong to look back.

“She says you read people for a living.” Her voice had a hint of skepticism in it I’d grown used to. “Sounds kind of like what psychics say.”

“Yeah, we use a lot of the same strategies, too. They just aren’t as honest about it as we are.”

“What do you see here?”

That was what got me to turn around and face her. She looked so comfortable, curled up on the couch.

“Pardon me?” The question caught me off guard, even though it shouldn’t have. I’d heard it so many times.

“What does our apartment say about us?” She asked, clearly not understanding why it was an inappropriate thing to ask. Or more likely, just didn’t care. Curiosity is a powerful thing.

I cleared my throat before looking back away and saying, “I agreed not to profile (y/n).”

“Well, can you at least tell which stuff is hers?”

I’m sure she was just checking to see if I was legitimate or just scamming her. Maybe she was checking to see if I was _too_ good at it.

She didn’t need to worry. (Y/n) could handle herself. She wasn’t tricked easily. In fact, most of my intrigue and concern surrounding her unknowns was just how good she was at hiding things.

It wasn’t until I had registered that question and was staring at her walls with a newfound sense of purpose, that I realized how little I knew about her past. Then again, I don’t really care about her past.

It had made her who she was today, and that was the woman I loved.

My fingers brushed over old, cracked plastic on DVD cases displayed on a shelf beside the console center.

I didn’t even notice I was smiling at first, realizing that she’d kept the physical cases despite all the streaming services. She clearly still used the discs, too.

“These… are hers.”

“How can you tell?” The response in the form of a question told me I was right, and only made me feel even more deeply. Despite my greatest efforts to not look so excited by something so silly, I turned back around with my lips still curled in an awkward smile.

“Educated guess. Adrenaline.”

“What?” The confusion in her voice reminded me that she wasn’t aware of one of my deepest personality flaws.

“Research shows that only about 10% of the population are so called ‘adrenaline junkies,’ people who enjoy roller coasters and horror movies. It’s more often men than women, but it’s hard to tell because of the way we’re socialized.”

If I had turned around to face her, I probably would have seen the dead stare she was giving me during my rant.

“Regardless, people tend to either love horror or hate it. So, I considered the fact that (y/n) seems to enjoy things like… sneaking into bars with fake IDs and… other risky behavior.”

Well, that was close.

“But what really gave it away was the fact they’re not dusty, which means they’re still being used despite all of these movies being available on streaming services I know for a fact she uses. Considering how patient she is with my own Luddite tendencies I just figur—“

“Wow.”

The word cut off my train of thought, and I realized that I had barely breathed since I’d started. Wincing in response to the dumbfounded look on the poor girl’s face, I gave a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“A little bit,” she said with her own little pity laugh. I’m sure (y/n) had told her enough about me that this wasn’t that big of a surprise.

“I do that when I’m nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” she said like it was the easiest advice in the world, “You’re right about her, you know.”

Staring down at my feet, I wondered why the confirmation from her roommate meant so much to me. I hadn’t been actively trying to figure out things about my girlfriend — it felt wrong. But for whatever reason, knowing I had the ability to figure it out meant more when it was about her.

Laura laughed again, craning her neck to look around the corner before she quietly spoke. “She says it was the other way around, but _she’s_ the one who convinced _me_ to streak the lawn.”

Ah, the age-old tradition of UVA students. It was so easy to picture her stripping down to nothing in the dead of the night to prance down the length of manicured grass. My own personal little pixie.

If it was just an attempt to calm my nerves, it was working. Putting the focus back on (y/n) was a surefire way to bring out the best in me. She just had that effect on me.

“I am _entirely_ unsurprised by this information,” I said before walking over to the other side of the room, noting the distinct lack of pictures of family among the shelves that clearly belonged to her.

 _Don’t read into it_ , I told myself, _she might just keep them somewhere else_.

“She also drank an entire water bottle of vodka during a full day of classes one time, just because I bet that she wouldn’t.”

I scoffed at the image of her drunk. It’d been a while since I’d seen her like that, and both times had been remarkably unique. She’s a dead giveaway; I was surprised she hadn’t been caught.

“I can’t say I relate to that,” I sadly admitted. Sometimes it was hard to realize that if I’d known her at the same age, we probably wouldn’t have gotten along. I used to hate people like that.

Granted, they had usually also hated me. 

“She did mention you were a genius or something. I kind of figured. That’s her type.”

Well, that was information I couldn’t just gloss over. I furrowed my brow with a disbelieving smile, finally looking at the girl who was avidly watching my every move.

“Is it? I always pictured her with someone with more… Kinaesthetic intelligence.”

She gave me that look people give me when I said something weird, but continued nonetheless, “I don’t really know what that means, but she takes school pretty seriously. Honestly, probably a little too much. Part of why I dared her.”

“It’s strange to imagine her in class.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. And I was glad I couldn’t, because I was very curious about the answer.

“She’s the girl who knows **all** the answers and shuts down all the stupid guys trying to talk over her.”

I knew that those behaviors weren’t exactly favored in classrooms, having myself been the one at the brunt end of the bullying that followed.

“It’s pretty impressive.” She was being genuine when she spoke, and I was inclined to agree. At the same time the thought crossed my mind, I found a picture of her perched on the lap of the Thomas Jefferson statute.

God, I loved that girl.

“I bet she is.”

Almost on call, (y/n) poked her head into the room with wary eyes, looking at me as I awkwardly waved before looking back to her roommate.

“Laura, are you being weird?”

The girl rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to me like it was my question to answer. Afraid to spoil any tenuous, newly formed loyalties, I shook my head no.

“Okay…” She only barely accepted my answer, “But if you say some dumb shit and get arrested, I’m not bailing you out.”

Briefly sticking out her tongue as she walked past me, she continued on her way. I couldn’t help but give that lovestruck, idiotic grin I always gave when she was around. If you’d told me I would’ve ever felt like this about someone who felt the same about _me_ , I wouldn’t have believed you. Part of me still didn’t believe she could ever love me the same as I loved her.

Turning back to the girl cringing at the blatant intimacy shared in a simple glance, I immediately became awkward again.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring my handcuffs.” I joked, showing my hands in a strange display of innocence.

She… took a different approach.

“I know for a fact she has a few pairs in her room if you need one.”

A high-pitched whine nearly escaped my throat at the casual mention, and I cleared my throat and turned to look at her with a very unconvincing laugh. “W-what?”

“You have to know it’s impossible for her to keep her sex life a secret,” she droned with a bored expression, “I live one room over.”

“Right,” I nodded.

There was an extended, never ending silence as she just let me stew in my own discomfort. It didn’t seem to bother her one bit, because the longer I avoided her eyes the more she seemed to smile.

“I’m uncomfortable.” I finally admitted, and she just shook her head, running her hand through her hair before giving me one final hard look.

“You’re sweet. You make her happy. I appreciate that.”

My mouth scrunched in a humble half-smile, my hands finding their way back into my pockets as I tried to consider the reality I’d found myself in. Of all the infinite possibilities, I got to exist in the version of the world where I loved a girl who loved me back.

“It’s all her,” I finally said with a voice that crackled far too much for my liking, “I don’t do anything. I’m just the lucky one she decides to keep around.”

Laura flashed an approving grin, but then got up when she heard the familiar, happy feet beating down the hallway. (Y/n) burst out from around the corner, her arms full with a picnic basket and a blanket she clearly owned for just these occasions.

“Ready to go, babe?”

“Lead the way.”

I’d have followed her anywhere.

— ****—

It was the perfect time of year for a picnic, despite Spencer’s insistence that there was no such thing. Once we were in the park, his whining dramatically decreased. Maybe it was the sunshine, or maybe it was the smile on my face, but he was certainly in brighter spirits.

He even let me rest my head on his lap, his legs crossed underneath me while he alternated between staring off at the trees slowly losing their color to autumn and my quiet contentment as I nibbled on an assortment of fruits.

There was no awkward silence or hidden darkness in this day, and even the sweetest strawberry couldn’t be more refreshing. To be here with Spencer, soaking in the late Summer sun, was all I could ever ask for.

But I was also eager to take advantage of the uncharacteristic softness between us. It wasn’t often we could share moments like this. Between his job and all our problems over the past few months, I wasn’t sure when we could be like this again.

“Let’s talk about something fun.” I blurted out, earning an intrigued look from my boyfriend. He readjusted his position, leaning back on his hands so he could look down at me easier.

“Okay, like what?”

“Don’t make fun of me…” The way he was looking at me gave me no hope he would actually listen to me, but I continued anyway, “I have conversation starters I looked up.”

He snorted while trying to suppress his chuckle. “Of course you do.”

Dropping my mouth open, I reached up to lightly smack him on the face for immediately doing exactly what I had asked him not to.

“What? Like you’re the epitome of sociable, Dr. Reid?”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to stop the laughter that kept bubbling in his chest over something that was decidedly not that funny at all. We were just that stupid kind of happy where everything was wonderful.

“I’m just not surprised!” He reminded, then nodded for me to continue, “Go on, tell me one.”

“Tell me something you’re scared of.” I shot back, excited to hear the answer.

“The dark.” It was the most anticlimactic, stereotypical answer I could have imagined. It was my turn to scoff now, hardly believing the answer to be real.

“Seriously? You’re an FBI Agent, Spencer.”

“You told me not to make fun of you, but then you make fun of me? Unfair. I didn’t sign up for this scrutiny.” His legs started to move under me as he pretended like he was about to dump me from his lap and leave me here.

“Fine!” I shouted, reaching my hands up to grab his face. Although they fumbled awkwardly from my strange position, he took the time to lean to the side and kiss my palm lightly. “Favorite memory of the two of us.”

He blew out a long breath, his eyes squinted like they always did when he was in deep contemplation. But something told me something actually jumped straight to his mind, but he was holding it back for some other reason.

“That’s not fair. There are too many.”

I wasn’t falling for it. I flicked his nose before pulling my hand back, smiling at the way he jerked away like it actually hurt him. Giant baby.

“No cop out answers, old man. Favorite one!”

Spencer just sighed, letting his head fall back as he actually thought about what he was about to say for once in his life. I took the brief moment without his scrutiny to reflect on just how lucky I was to be able to see him like this.

“Okay. So, remember when we went to the bakery in Downtown?” He asked like I could have forgotten.

“Pauls? Yes, I remember.”

They’re legends in the area, but a total pain to try and get. You have to get there first thing in the morning and wait in a ridiculous line. But they were always worth it. Spencer had told me he’d never been, and I just couldn’t let such an injustice stand.

“While we were waiting in that ridiculous line, I remember looking at you and just seeing how excited you were for a donut, even at 7 in the morning.”

“That’s objectively the best time for a donut.” I interrupted with the most matter-of-fact tone I could emulate.

“Right,” he laughed, recalling how I kept reminding him of that fact while in line, “Well, we got to the front and before I could even talk, you had already ordered one for me.”

It took me a second to remember exactly what had happened. So much had happened since then, the memories were becoming muddled in my mind. But once I did remember, I smiled.

“Chocolate frosted with sprinkles. For the child in us all.”

“That’s it.” His voice had gotten soft so quickly, his hand brushing over my cheek while he played with the strands of hair blowing back over my face. “That’s my favorite memory.”

If I didn’t make a joke of it soon, I was scared my heart would burst.

“Really? _That’s_ your favorite memory? Of all things?” I asked with a playful grin, clasping both of my hands around his and holding it against my chest.

“Yes.” For a man of so many words, it meant so much more when he spoke so little. You could feel the truth in the way the sound hit your ears.

Even as I bit on the inside of my cheeks to withhold my excited giggle, he was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Spencer, that’s **so** lame.”

In that way he always did, he so charmingly replied, “How fitting for us.”

“Rude,” I muttered, finally finding the strength to sit up from my position on his lap. The world only spun for a second as I reoriented myself. He seemed equally grateful, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“What else do you want to make fun of me for?” Spencer said with a smile, watching as I reached into the small basket and pulled out a small clementine. I ran through the questions in my head, trying to decide which one to spend our limited time on.

“Okay,” I decided, “What did you think the first time you saw me?”

His face scrunched up with the leftover embarrassment from our very first meeting, during which the first thing he had ever done to me was lie. It had been a flattering one, though.

As I popped a section of the small citrus fruit into my mouth, I noticed the way he licked his own lips. The sight caused butterflies to flurry in my stomach, and I wondered which was more appealing to him; the mouthwatering scent of oranges or the idea of slipping something else between my lips.

“I thought… that you were beautiful and intriguing. And I was right.”

I got my answer to my preceding thought, because he had quickly wrapped his hand around the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss with crushing force. For someone who wasn’t the biggest fan of public displays of affection, he certainly didn’t mind kissing me like this.

Despite how deep and hard it was, it ended far too quickly. I sucked on my bottom lip as he left, staring up at him with wonder and devoted attention.

“Why was I intriguing?”

He clearly hadn’t thought that far ahead, probably hoping that the kiss alone would distract me from asking any more questions about that night. Unable to get out of it now, though, he just shrugged with a nervous chuckle, “You… were looking at me?”

My laugh, on the other hand, was full bodied as I pushed him away from me with just enough force that he actually almost toppled over.

“That was it? Because I looked at you?”

It seemed so silly, but I could tell by the way he responded that he meant it. He had told me before, on that night actually, that he wasn’t used to women showing him attention. But surely, he must just be missing it. He was an _amazing_ man.

“I don’t know. There’s just something about you.” He paused between his words, taking a deep breath before attempting to work through his thoughts, “Like… like things just revolve around you. You have this intense gravitational pull that just told me that I had to get closer to you or I wouldn’t be able to survive.”

Fighting back the blush quickly forming on my cheeks, I struggled to maintain my typical aloof nature. I couldn’t have him getting a swelled head just because he could string together a couple cute sentences.

“Are you calling me a star, Dr. Reid?”

“I guess I am, yeah.” He hit me back with that confidence he rarely displayed outside of our play. I loved to see it like this. It made me feel like I was actually with him, rather than any manicured person he’d created to suit the needs of the current situation.

“If you felt that strongly about it, then why lie and say you weren’t checking me out? I could’ve left, you know.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Yeah, but I thought about it.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. There had been a couple of times during that night that I almost cut my losses—admitted that we were just too different to ever be compatible. Thank god I’d ignored that flawed instinct.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. Have you looked at your boyfriend? I’m _so weird_.”

The ease with which he flouted his eccentricities brought a smile to my face, and I shook my head as I tried to fight back in his defense. “You’re not _that_ weird.”

“Are you joking? Look at yourself. You’re—You’re normalcy personified! No, actually, you’re not even that. You’re this… beautiful, smart, talented young girl and I’m just an old man who’s hoping to keep you around long enough that you forget you have better options out there.”

The longer he spoke, the more my jaw dropped open. Eventually, I had devolved into a fit of laughter.

“Dr. Reid, you can’t seriously be telling me that you think _I_ am out of _your_ league!”

“I mean—!” he started, but I wasn’t going to allow him to even entertain the thought. I clapped my hand over his mouth, nearly climbing onto his lap to hush any noises he attempted to make.

“No way!” I shouted, “Shut up!”

Instead of trying to wrench my hand away, his hands came to rest on my hips. I could feel the smile spreading across his cheeks under my fingers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Spencer. Fucking FBI Agent with three PhDs. Get out of here.”

He began bouncing his leg under me, and when I looked down to see what he was doing, I was shocked to feel a wetness on my palm. Ripping my hand away, I looked at my hand to see the swipe of saliva over the skin.

“Did you just fucking lick me?!” I screeched, unable to comprehend what had just happened, staring at my boyfriend with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I touched the ground with this hand! What are you doing?!”

“Yeah, I’m definitely going to rinse my mouth with bleach when we get home. But it was worth it, to see that look on your face.”

He went to wipe his own face, but I still couldn’t get over the fact my hand was fucking wet. So I took my hand once more, wiping the residue of his own spit back over his cheek. Surprisingly, he just let me do it, laughing as he only slightly tilted his head back.

“Nasty old pervert,” I joked, rolling my body off him and sitting on own once more.

“You’re very mean when you’re nice to me.” Spencer pouted.

I was distracted, trying to get my hair to stay out of my face and mouth as the wind started to whip through the park. Still, I managed to say a few very important words of warning.

“Yeah, well, get used to it, bud.”

Taking pity on my obvious distress, he reached out to grab my arm, tugging me back over to him. “Come here, little girl.” he instructed while I crawled over on all fours to sit between his legs.

I was going to ask him what he was planning when I felt his hands begin threading through my hair. I sat patiently, recognizing the pattern he was weaving.

“… When did you learn how to braid hair? Did your mom teach you?”

“My mom has short hair.” It was an evasive, but truthful answer, so I didn’t press it. I was sure I would find out more about his family as time went on. I just had to keep reminding myself that we had all the time in the world to get to know each other.

“I never learned how to braid hair specifically. I’m just applying the same pattern I would with a knot or a puzzle.”

“How _romantic_.” I gasped, tucking my hands between my legs as I enjoyed the way it felt for him to play with my hair.

It was always bizarre, to consider the way he could be so soft in moments like this. Or rather, that he could be so far the opposite at other times. In my heart, he was always the kind, goofy man I had met that night at the bar.

But I’d seen him angry, depressed, and in pain. I’d seen him desperate and scared. Basically, the only way I hadn’t seen Spencer Reid was however he was at work. Part of me wished that I could; it was obvious he was good at it and, to a certain degree, enjoyed it.

Then again, when I know he does things like get shot at, it makes it a little bit harder to be interested in. I couldn’t imagine getting that phone call one day while they loaded him into the back of an ambulance… or worse.

“Ah, the things I do for love.” His calm, smooth voice tore me from the destructive thoughts and back into his warm embrace.

“Hey, Spencer, I have a serious question.”

“Well, that’s terrifying.” He joked, holding out his hand for my hair tie, which I happily gave him. I hated to admit that he did a better job at braiding my hair than I’d ever done. Freaking stupid genius stuff.

“When do I get to say it back?”

I swear, I felt a chill spread through the air between us. His entire body froze, his hands stuck mixed with the elastic as he tied off the braid.

It was an intense, unwelcome flashback to the second night I’d spent with him, when we had talked about things too serious, too soon.

Terrified, I immediately cut off anything he might have been able to say, muttering, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

Letting my hair slip from his fingers, he let his hand drag along my spine. I wished I could see the look on his face, but I didn’t dare turn around.

“I’m sorry.” He said after another moment of silence, and it physically pained me the way the words fell from his lips.

“Don’t apologize,” I said in the cheeriest tone possible, trying to lighten the mood, “I just wanted to test the waters.”

With that, I spun around dramatically, noting the way his face lit up once it saw the smile on my own. “And they are _frozen_ solid!”

He laughed at the enthusiasm I displayed, swiftly throwing his arms around me in a tight embrace.

“Well, I’ll just have to warm you up, then.” My whole body in his arms, he yanked me off the ground and onto himself. I struggled playfully under his arms, not paying any attention to the other people in the park watching our childish antics.

“Hypothermia is very dangerous, after all,” he lectured, “Let me take your temperature.” Burying his face in my neck, I felt the familiar overstimulation that accompanied frantic, light touches of my sides.

“Stop!” I burst with laughter, “You’re tickling me!”

The movements all halted, but only to be followed with a terrifyingly devious tone of Spencer’s voice. “You’re _ticklish_?”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Oh, I love this information.” And just like that, he began his onslaught. His fingers danced over every inch of my sides, his lips pressing quick, frenzied kisses against the underside of my chin. The harder I laughed, the more he continued.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” I screeched like a banshee, trying to slip from his hands or turn around—anything to get the upper hand again.

After nearly wrestling him, I managed to get both hands on his shoulders and shove him back against the blanket. The force with which we hit the ground knocked the air from his lungs, and he groaned at my body weight on his chest.

“Okay, okay! You win!” He yelled, holding his hands in front of me while struggling not to touch the ground with his head. “I’m not risking more surface area of contact with the ground to fight you.”

“(Y/n) emerges victorious!” I grabbed hold of both of his hands, shaking his arms with all my leftover adrenaline while I cheered myself on.

“Dork,” he muttered under his breath before he grabbed my sides, laughing at the way I instinctually jerked. I threw myself off of him to avoid the potential tickles, landing clumsily next to him. And Spencer, being the genius, recognized it as the perfect opportunity to pin me against the ground.

Wasting no time, he pressed the same instruments which had begun the great tickle war against my own lips. My hands found their way to his cheeks, pulling him closer as his tongue easily found mine. Just like it always did with us, it felt like the world was disappearing around us.

All I could feel, smell, taste, think, was Spencer Reid. His love and admiration flowed from him with ease, and I was happy to take it in. After a few minutes, we had to break apart. We might like a little bit of exhibitionism, but I was pretty sure neither of us actually wanted to tear the other’s clothes off in a park.

Could you imagine if people knew he was an FBI Agent? I was sure they already thought our age gap strange. But I didn’t care what they thought. Because right now, we were happy.

“I’m the dork you love, though.” I whispered against his lips.

“Indubitably,” he mumbled back, starting to laugh at the way the word sounded in our teenage love-like delirium.

“Now who’s the dork.” I teased as I smoothed my hands over his shoulders.

“Hm. Still you. And a little bit me, too.”

Laughter was bursting from me again.

“You have grass in your hair, idiot.” Before he could do anything about it, my hands were all over it, ruffling his hair wildly out of place. He just squeezed his eyes shut, letting me ruin any semblance of maturity or control from his appearance.

“Wow. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” I chirped, accepting the small peck he gave me before he started to retreat from his spot above me.

“You ready to head home?”

“Yeah, just about,” he sighed like it was a terrible thing to do. He hadn’t even wanted to come on this picnic!

“I promised to check you for ticks, after all.”

Ah, the real thing we were both looking forward to. Although, I was sure he was going to take it way too seriously for a few minutes before we devolve into sex on the bathroom floor.

“Mmm. I’m thrilled.” I replied honestly, struggling to sit up now that my body had already slipped into _Spencer Reid is on Top of You_ mode. It was one of those rare moments when I wondered if there really was a female version of blue balls, because I was almost certain I had it.

“I have to stop at the bank first, though. I’ll go throw this stuff in the car and we can just walk over.”

“Sure thing, old man.” I huffed as I stood up, holding the much lighter basket while he collected the blanket. Once he took it all from me, I glanced over at the nearby bench with a pout.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You’re cute,” he smiled, kissing my cheek like it were a more serious goodbye, “I’ll be right back.”

While I waited for him, I cautiously watched the large, dark clouds rolling over the horizon. They threatened to swallow the sunshine that we’d basked in less than hour before. I tried not to think anything of it.

It wasn’t a metaphor; it wasn’t an omen. It was just the weather.

Spencer must have seen the anxiety, because when he came back, he gingerly placed his arms around me from behind, resting his head on my chin.

“I guess we have good timing. It looks like it’s about to storm.” I absently spoke, my eyes still fixed on the sky.

“Yeah, typical finicky Virginia weather, I guess.”

I wasn’t sure if I actually heard it in his voice or made it up, but I swore Spencer was also trying to stop himself from thinking something of the rain. I was probably just being paranoid. It was just a storm. They happened.

“Well, let’s get going so you can cash your check in person like an eighty year old man.” I joked, grabbing his hand and dragging him back towards the exit to the park.

“That’s a _bit_ of an exaggeration. There are other people my age who don’t trust cell phone banking transactions.”

“Are there, though?”

He just shook his head, deciding it wasn’t worth it to get into it with me. Typical young kids, he must have thought, so _irresponsible_. But he didn’t say it, just held my hand on the short, quiet walk to the ornate building on the corner of two busy streets.

I swung our hands dramatically back and forth, earning an unamused, but still playful, glare from him.

“Your age is showing,” he pointed out before licking his lips and avoiding my eyes. I glared right back before responding, “Your stick-in-the-mud-ness is showing.”

“Not a word. Not a phrase. Not a thing.”

He stopped our hands dead in their tracks as he crossed the threshold, and for a second, I thought he was going to seriously be a spoilsport. But right when I least expected it, he swung our hands again and I nearly smacked into another person.

We both laughed, with me blurting out a frantic, “I’m sorry!”

“So immature,” he chastised, shaking his head with disapproval.

“I can’t believe you. You are such an asshole!” 

The familiar hum and beeping of the metal detectors threatened to dislodge memories from the back of my mind, and I shook my head to try to get rid of them again. Spencer glanced over with concern but didn’t mention it.

I was grateful. I didn’t want to talk about it. Once we had passed security, he settled into the line like he’d done it a million times before. But me, being a normal person who used my banking app to cash checks, felt strangely out of place.

Figuring it might be a minute, and that the ride home would be significantly longer, I decided to go get any residual dirt and grass out of my hair. After all, it would get in the way of our tick searching activities.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere.” I pointed an accusing finger at him as my arm slipped from around his. His hand followed me until he couldn’t hold on any longer, an innocent, lovesick smile on his face.

“You know I could never leave you behind.”

As cheesy as it was, it still made me smile. My heart ached with the saccharine sweetness of his affections. I’d gotten so used to them so fast; I couldn’t even imagine a world without them anymore.

“Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.”

“You know I will, little girl.”

That storm cloud feeling was brewing in my chest again as I pressed a kiss to my fingers, blowing it across the ever-growing distance between us. Why did he feel so far away so suddenly?

I tried not to pay it any mind, humming _You Are My Sunshine_ and imagining Spencer’s terrible singing voice instead. Looking at my reflection, I realized why my cheeks had been getting sore. Because there, staring back at me, was a smile on a neutral face.

I don’t even know when it happened, but it hit me in that bathroom of a bank at 12:47pm on a Saturday that I had fallen madly in love with Spencer Reid. And it suddenly made sense, why he didn’t want me to say it yet. Because I hadn’t realized it yet.

But now I had, and it filled every cell in my body. The blush on my cheeks was evidence of just how much I needed to let it out, to scream it from the rooftops, or at least in the lobby of this old bank.

There were so few things that could overwhelm the emotions I was feeling and rob me of this moment. My brain rioted against any sign of darkness or despair, clinging to the hope that I would be able to tell him soon.

So, when explosive booms rang through the bank, for a long second, I tried to convince myself they were thunder.

But they weren’t. The storm had indeed come, but it wasn’t responsible for the sounds that caused my heart to tear in two and shatter against the floor. The people outside the room were not screaming at the wrath of God, displayed with lightwork in the sky.

It was not thunder.

They were gunshots.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive. The team, minus Penelope and Derek, don’t know who the strange girl in the bank is, but they find out very interesting things about her history.

“Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I’m calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics.”

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don’t feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

“Ma’am, where are you?”

Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“I’m inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There’s a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call…”

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I’d met them both, why couldn’t I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

“Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and… Derek Morgan.”

“Can you remain on the line?” She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door’s hinges.

“Only until the door opens.”

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I’m probably going to die. It wasn’t a completely irrational fear.

“Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?”

Jesus, it was like everything I’d just told her had gone completely over her head. “No, I’m in the bathroom.”

“Does the agent have his service weapon?”

“No.”

If she didn’t ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn’t help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

“Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

“Please hurry.”

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don’t even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

“We’ve contacted Agent Hotchner and he’s also on his way.”

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn’t. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t hang up—“

I couldn’t wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I’d ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.

I listened for his voice, but I never heard it. 

———

Three seconds.

Did you know that a semiautomatic weapon can fire up to three rounds per second, depending on how fast the user can pull the trigger?

After the first shot is fired, no one moves. Puzzled and alert, people are paralyzed. Your first reaction is to look for the source of the sound. It’d been a second before I turned to see the three armed people and two dead security guards behind me.

It takes the average person one and a half seconds to cognitively process that they’re in a potentially life-threatening situation. It takes another .7 seconds for a physical response to kick in.

Three seconds.That was long enough for a maximum of nine shots per person to be fired- twenty-seven shots in total; it was long enough for the air to be filled with the sudden outburst of helpless screams the patrons of the bank, and it was long enough for me to realize that I didn’t have my gun and that my girlfriend wasn’t by my side.

“Everybody get down on the ground!”

Amid the chaos, I felt that all too familiar twisting sensation in my gut that begged time to reverse just enough for this to be a dream. Enough time to reverse the decisions that led us here.

But time was a cruel mistress, and she did not plan to bend to the whims of mankind, no matter how desperate.

Another deafening burst of sound rang through the air, shots fired into the ceiling now as myself and the others fell to the ground.

My gaze was fixed on the bathroom entrance. I couldn’t breathe. _Please_ , I begged, _stay hidden_.

“Listen up! If everyone does what we say, you can all go back to your boring fucking lives.”

Injuries occur in less than two percent of bank robberies. Deaths occur in less than one. Saturdays are the second to least likely day for a robbery to take place. In the past 5 years, less than 10 people have been killed in bank robberies, and most of them were the perpetrators. Statistics usually calmed me down and helped me focus.

But these people didn’t care about statistics. They were defying the odds I had just recited to myself. They had already killed two people. Our luck was already stacked against us.

“Take everything out of your pockets and put it in front of you.”

As soon as the order was given, I was running through an inventory of everything in my pockets. It didn’t take me long to realize that with a cursory inspection of the items, they would figure out who I was.

But what were the odds that they would actually scrutinize them? I figured they were fairly low; you don’t rob a bank to get cheap jewelry and petty cash, even in a bank. What were the odds they would notice if I left something in my pocket — especially if my wallet was in front of me. If it wasn’t large enough to be a weapon, and I put out my objects of value, why wouldn’t I put out the rest of the contents?

So I decided to take the risk, removing my wallet while retaining my separate identification.

Luckily, the attention seemed pretty far removed from me. If I wasn’t too busy being extremely grateful, I might have been offended that they didn’t consider me a threat in the building.

“Alright ladies, all of you get up and follow my lovely friend here. You’re going on a little trip. Fellas, you stay right where you are.”

The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the instructions that weren’t intended for me. It was fine, I hadn’t planned on moving, anyway. As long as I could see the door to the bathroom, I was perfectly fine right where I was.

But I still felt for the terrified women that were shakily rising to their feet. To my right, I saw a woman struggling to hold a small infant. My heart was fracturing at the struggle, wishing I could help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw attention to myself.

I felt like a traitor. I felt useless. I was quite literally trained to handle this exact situation, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t thinking about strategy or how to maximize efficiency; all I was thinking about was her.

“Jake!” A woman’s voice screamed from the other side of the room. When I turned, I heard the sound of a rifle cracking against bone before the man hit the ground.

“Jake, huh?” The man above him laughed, using the business end of the rifle to turn the disoriented man on his side. “Well, Jake, how would you feel about your girlfriend watching you die?”

“Please don’t hurt him!” The woman sobbed, scrambling up off the floor that she’d resisted leaving. I wondered if (y/n) would have refused to leave me, too.

The man prodded the woman with the gun, urging her to follow the rest while simultaneously providing easy enough instructions. The man apparently named Jake made a few noises of desperate protest as he watched her leave.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m sorry,” Jake pleaded, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt her. I’ll be quiet.”

Smart man. I understood his hesitancy, though. His girlfriend kept her neck craned back until she was no longer in sight, gazing back at him for as long as she physically could. I closed my eyes just for a moment, to try and combat their current strain.

Unfortunately, just like it always seems to happen, that’s when they spoke the words I had been dreading.

“Hey, you check the bathrooms yet?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I closed my eyes tighter now, scared that if I opened them, I’d give myself away. There was no possible way that I could hide the terror I currently felt. To be fair, I think it was only natural to be scared — but not like this.

There was a loud crashing noise of doors slamming, and the voice I knew better than I knew my own reached my ears, making sounds I’d never heard from her before.

 _Don’t fight them_. I pleaded again, _Please, don’t fight them._

“Let go of me!” She screamed as the door to the bathroom swung open. Unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, I opened them to see her clawing at the ground as she was dragged out by her ankle. “I can walk by myself! Let go of me!”

I wasn’t sure if she didn’t see me in the commotion, or if she’d just made the decision to act like she hadn’t. Either way, I was grateful. Still, my worries were justified as one of the three unsubs walked over to me.

“Why are you looking at her like that? You know her?”

Craning my head up, I shook my head no. It must not have been very convincing; the rage in my heart at them for thrusting her into this situation evident in my eyes.

“You wanna play hero, kid?”

“Sorry. No.” I muttered, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to regulate my heart rate or my voice, “She’s… very loud. I get headaches.”

“Yeah well, deal with it.”

That might have been the end of it, if I’d played my hand better. But it turned out that the risk I had previously elected to take was woefully miscalculated. I didn’t meet their eyes anymore, knowing that doing so might threaten whatever frail illusion of masculinity they possessed.

It still didn’t stop them from holding the gun to my head.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Okay. I can do that, but I have to put my hand in my pocket.” I explained, moving my shaking hand to my back pocket, “It’s not a weapon.”

For once, I was grateful that I was the resident wimp when it came to stressful situations. Sure, I could handle myself, but I definitely didn’t look like I wanted to be there. Had I been any more of a visible threat, I was certain they would have figured out my identity long before this point. They might even have killed me right away.

“Hurry up.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled the identification from my pocket, flipping it open and holding it up for him to see, my gaze aimed fully forward. He snatched the badge away, a cheeky chuckle and a smile in his words.

“FBI, huh? Well, aren’t we lucky. You just became our most valuable player.”

—

Morgan arrived on the scene relatively unhurried and mostly just curious. The information Garcia had sent over text message was vague, likely due to the crime being a local one. Nothing about this seemed to be the BAU’s usual fare. 

It took him almost no time to find Hotch, dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the massive response team swarming around the bank. But Hotch hadn’t spotted him yet, fully involved with SWAT.

“What’s going on?”

Finally turning to notice his arrival, Hotch gave his normal matter-of-fact report in his simple, succinct manner. “Three people stormed the bank approximately 20 minutes ago and killed two security guards. There are 19 confirmed hostages inside the bank.”

But there was one significant detail that seemed to be missing, and Morgan started to scan the crowd for familiar faces as he spoke. “Hotch, this doesn’t sound like anything we’ve been working on. Why are we responding?”

“The caller alerted us that Reid is inside.”

The words were so unexpected that Morgan actually did a double take, his eyebrows furrowed and bowed as he replayed them in his head. “Wait, how did the caller know that?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said with an equally perplexed look, gripping tighter to the communicator in his hand, “but she referred to us and him by name.”

‘ _She?_ ’ Morgan thought, his heart stopping for a second as he excused himself from Hotch’s side, pulling out his phone and frantically calling Garcia, who had already made her way to the BAU.

“Hey there handsome.” It was a mild nickname for the famed Penelope Garcia, but Derek knew that she was probably already in a tough spot. After all, it’s not every day that one of their own is in these situations. At least, not unexpectedly.

“Hey Garcia, do you have eyes on the people in the bank?”

He could hear the feverish click-clacking of keys on the other end, followed closely by her equally frantic voice. “I’m working on it but so far I can only see the main lobby. They separated the women and the men for some reason. Why would they do that?”

“Just focus,” he calmly reminded, “Can you see the women?”

“No. All the women and children were moved to the back.”

Rubbing his face to try and relieve the tension that had quickly made its home over his jaw, Morgan glanced over at the entrance to the bank. It was strange to think that so much had happened so quickly.

Garcia had mentioned twice now that the women had been moved to the back, and he was trying to figure out why they would do that beyond the usual control mechanisms.

“I’m trying to see in the back now, but apparently banks take their video surveillance far more seriously than everything else. Last I checked, a camera never stole money or fired a gun!”

“Focus, babygirl.” It was an instruction for himself just as much as it was for her.

“Sorry, I’m nervous, and you know how I get when I’m nervous!” She squeaked, “I don’t like seeing you guys on my screens. I’d much rather see you in person, safe and sound and preferably smiling.”

Trying not to lose his patience, Morgan just sighed. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, except that of the bastards who just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice weekend.

“Can you at least tell me who the caller was? Did they call from inside?”

“They were inside and, one second, let me check, it was… oh.” Her voice cut off abruptly, dropping into a high pitched, desperate whisper. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s… the girl from the movies,” Garcia’s voice got faster and more panicked, “Derek, it’s (y/n). It’s Reid’s girlfriend. Reid’s girlfriend is inside the bank.”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the information. Because now that he knew Reid wasn’t alone, he felt the need to tell Hotch.

A profiler with a loved one involved was in dangerous territory. It wasn’t just Reid, but Morgan had personally seen just how unhinged Reid could get when it came to (y/n).

“Can you see her?” He asked, his voice lower than it was before.

“Oh, god, yes! I can!” It was not the kind of excited exclamation Morgan had hoped to hear, but at least he had confirmation she was alive. “She was in the bathroom but… They’re dragging her away…”

Morgan had tried not to pry too far in his best friend’s life before, and he took a moment to consider whether his next request was honestly necessary, or if he was just trying to find a reason to snoop.

But he wasn’t. There was something off about that girl. It wasn’t that she was bad or wrong, but she was far too comfortable in situations that didn’t call for it. The way she carried herself told him that she had held her own hand too often.

“Garcia, I know I’ve already done this to you once but… I need you to tell me everything you can find on her.”

———

My entire body ached; the sensation of an unfamiliar hand clenched tightly around my ankle burned long after I was released. It was definitely sprained, at the very least. I didn’t dare try to touch it, though. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and the bristling discomfort kept me where I was.

Which, for now was on my knees in the backroom of a bank lobby. Beside us was a large, heavily reinforced steel door with way too many different contraptions. I decided then that this whole arms race between burglars and corporate America had gotten a little fucking ridiculous.

But however annoyed I was by that, I was far more irritated by the hushed bickering between the man and woman holding rifles on the other side of the room. I could only hear every couple of words, but I got the gist of what they were arguing about.

Apparently, they’d never heard of an alarm system that’s connected to locks, which seemed extremely stupid for people who had gotten this far. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that something was off about this entire situation.

Still, I couldn’t deal with them making the same fucking arguments over and over, so eventually I blurted out what I’m certain any millennial in the room would know. “The keycard won’t work if they’ve sounded the alarm.”

The statement earned me a gun to my face, and after a brief second of confusion, I flinched away from the cold metal of the barrel.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She was clearly looking to gauge my reaction rather than actually ask me to repeat the information. That was fine. I wasn’t exactly a talented actress, and I didn’t see the point in pretending to be meek.

If she was going to kill me, she was going to do it. Although I was certain Spencer would disagree, I chose to believe that our fate is dictated long before it happens. I was not a profiler; if I survived, it would be because I had been taught to survive through brute force and spite rather than calm negotiation.

“The keycard system is linked to the alarms,” I said, slower now, “Someone hit the alarm, so the cards aren’t going to work. You’ll need to use the old school keys.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a much lower register as she crouched down to my height. “How would you know? You work here?”

“No, my dad worked security.” It wasn’t a lie as much as it was an understatement, but she didn’t need to know that. I guess that’s one of those good things growing up with the dad I did; I got very comfortable speaking in vague generalities. Spencer hated it.

“Well, your daddy isn’t here to help you now.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. But that didn’t mean I was alone, I reminded myself. Despite being dragged and my vision turned literally upside down, I had caught a glimpse of him in the lobby. He was alive. That thought alone was keeping me sane right now.

“The different keys you need for an override are probably kept on separate people so one person can’t do it alone. Probably the different managers.” I muttered, nodding to the side where one of the employees flinched at my words. Anything to get away from the fucking gun in my face.

“Is she right?” The woman sneered to the manager, turning her full attention to someone else. I felt a little guilty, since the poor manager seemed a lot less put together than I was. But hey, they needed her, too.

“Yes, I already gave you my keys,” she squeaked, holding her trembling hands up, “Th-There’s another set behind the desk I think.”

“Would you look at that…” It was the first time the man in the room addressed me since he had pulled me out of the stall, and I had to admit I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. But at the same time, I knew that he was going to be remarkably more receptive to me than the woman. She seemed to be the one who was actually in charge. 

“Little miss problem was actually helpful,” he cheered, raising his weapon to point to the ceiling as he approached me. I chewed nervously on my cheeks, trying to meet his eyes but finding them uncomfortably bare.

“You should turn off the camera too, I’m just saying.” This time I didn’t nod, using one cautious finger to point to the small device that was currently staring right at me. I understood that it was probably helpful to Spencer’s team to be able to see, but I wasn’t really keen on my death being videotaped… as well as anything else I might end up doing.

‘ _Never leave a trace._ ’ That’s what I’d always heard.

‘ _Keep’em guessing. Even if you think it’s gonna kill you, because you don’t want to live with that over your head._ ’

“Fine. Do that and go get the keys.” He sounded intrigued, and I felt his searing gaze against my face.

“I think you should do it.”

The tension from before, when the two were arguing, had quickly resurfaced. She clearly didn’t trust him to be alone in the room, which solidified my belief that she was calling the shots, and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

In another life, I might have respected her ability to order stupid men around.

“Why the fuck is that?” He snapped, earning a bored roll of her eyes. The next thing out of her mouth was expected, but unfortunately the last thing I wanted to hear.

“I want to talk to her alone.”

Great. And naturally, her idea of ‘talking’ to me included weaponry. Using the end of the gun to tilt my head up to her, she gave a suspicious smile.

“Why are you helping us?”

“I want to go home.” It was my immediate and instinctual answer. It was the truth. I was helping them because I wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But you know, people expect everyone to have a squeaky-clean moral compass, so I decided to give a few more reasons.

“And I don’t give a shit about a massive corporate bank. I was just here to go to the bathroom– I don’t even have an account here.”

Maybe that was too many reasons, because just as her hesitance waned, it was back in full force. Shoving the barrel against my throat, she sneered, “I don’t believe you. You’re too comfortable with a gun in your face. You a cop, too?”

_Cop?_

I tilted my head to the side, baring more of my throat to her as I drawled, “Who’s a cop?”

For once, I was glad that Spencer had made such a point of reassuring me that he was not ‘a cop,’ because otherwise I’m certain the terror would have been obvious in my eyes. But for now, I could trust the numb apathy that was washing over me.

Please don’t be talking about Spencer. Please don’t know that. Good things never happened to law enforcement in situations like this. Hell, the two security guards had been dead in seconds.

“I think you know.” She was smiling, and I realized that this fucking psychopath was sharper than she wanted me to think.

“I don’t.” The words were said through clenched teeth, and I prayed that she would see them as insistent anger over the fear that lie beneath them, “And why would you kill me if I was helping you?”

She smiled, drawing the weapon up and down my throat until it landed lower at my chest. The movements were slow and light, a playful glint in her eyes when they met mine again.

“For fun.”

I didn’t move a muscle, my body remaining tense under her ministrations as I forced myself to hold my gaze steady. If she wanted fear, she wouldn’t get it from me.

“Then do it.”

The look she gave me told me she had seriously considered it, probably a little annoyed with my presence. But there was something else there, too, that same soft recognition that in another reality we might have been friends. I’m sure she saw herself in me a little bit; or at least somebody useful.

This confirmed my suspicion that I’d never really be able to read a psychopath. I didn’t understand how Spencer could do it every day. It’d only been a few minutes alone with her and I could feel myself losing the happy memories of the day.

Luckily, the man returned at the same time I saw a plan developing in her mind.

“Hey, come help me,” he called to her. Her response was surprisingly swift, the metal that was tracing over my collar bones disappearing without another word. He was holding a small bag of money, which seemed to seriously irritate the woman.

“Did you get that money from behind the counter?” I asked it before she had a chance. I wanted him to trust me. Or at least look at me more. It wasn’t that I wanted his attention as much as I knew I could distract him fairly easily.

He looked over at me, a dumbfounded look on his face. Men are so fucking stupid, I thought. The pissed off expression on his partner’s face told me that she agreed.

“It’s going to explode if you mess with it or it leaves the area. Probably with tear gas. If you’re escaping in a car, you’re not gonna want it.”

“Yeah, we know about dye packs, bitch.” She snapped, grabbing the bag of money and tossing it to the side of the door they intended to use.

I stared at the locks they hadn’t even bothered trying to touch. The same locks they apparently didn’t look up or know anything about when they came. Suddenly it hit me why this all felt so very off.

It was strange enough that no one was wearing a mask, and as far as I’d heard, no one was really trying to get out of this situation. I was certain that by this point there was a large crowd of armored men outside.

“Just trying to help,” I muttered as I started to scan the room, looking for telltale signs of tampering. The anxious whispering of the man distracted me just long enough to get more information. 

“Won’t that set off some shit? Chain reaction shit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman responded with a swift elbow to his gut as she started to walk away, “you are an absolute moron.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, I heard the faint curses that fell from his lips. As he picked up the bag just to toss it away again, I noticed the presence of odd packages in the corner of the room. He really did not want exploding dye packs near those boxes, which seemed remarkably out of place.

“Why does she think she’s in charge?” I asked, finally ripping my eyes away from the objects that now seemed glaringly obvious. “You two guys outnumber her.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

Relaxing my body as much as I could, I shifted back and forth on my knees, rubbing the tired muscles of my thighs. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

He actually chuckled; his eyes drawn to my legs like the absolute moron he so obviously was. She definitely had gotten that one right. The other women in the room were watching me, but I tried not to pay them any mind.

I didn’t know when or why they decided to let me do whatever I wanted, but I appreciated their apparent comfort in letting me try to kill myself. He made his way over to the boxes, each a specific size and shape. He carried them so carefully.

“I figure there’s no point in being scared if I’m going to die anyway.” I finally said. Shocked gasps and whispers filled the room, but I didn’t divert my attention to them– No matter how much I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up.

They would distract me from the way his mouth curled into a smile when he closed the gap between us, his hand sliding down my head and over my shoulder to follow the braid Spencer had meticulously woven an hour before.

“How about you just shut up and sit pretty for me, sweetheart.” I tried not to let the disgust show as his hand slid behind my neck, holding my head so that I had to look up at him. “You seem like you’d be real good at that.”

Ha! If only Spencer could hear him say that. But I could play the good girl for just long enough.

“Do you need help?” I asked with a tiny shrug, “I might be little but I’m pretty strong.” Strong enough to break your fucking hand if you don’t get it off of me.

“Nah.” He ordered, his hand on my neck getting tighter. “But I don’t doubt that you could be useful. You look real good on your knees.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might be visible through my ribs. I just needed an excuse to move. If he could give me an excuse to move, I could do so many things.

“Please let me help,” I begged, raising my hand to his forearm against my shoulder. His eyes began to shift, moving just enough to tell me that he wanted to look to the hallway. He could hear her footsteps, too. She was coming back, and I only had a few seconds left.

Once both of my hands were on his arm, I got the feeling he knew something even worse was coming for him.

“I’d love a chance to get to show you how helpful I really am.” 

———

Hotch had spent the past five minutes on the phone with the male unsub in the lobby, and the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. For whatever reason, they just seemed to deflect any opportunity provided to them.

They didn’t seem to give a shit about anything beyond pushing the buttons of each person they interacted with. Which, they did quite successfully.

“Didn’t realize one pig would bring the whole flock of you here,” he laughed, clearly motioning to Spencer on the video, “How bad do you want him back?”

“What do you want?” He responded without hesitation or a surprise. It was such an expected question to ask that he’d barely even thought about his words before they came out.

“Easy. A chopper, and for you to fuck off.”

That was the equally stereotypical response, meaning it was entirely unhelpful to them. From what they could deduce, they were equally confused as to why this heist seemed to follow all the rules, but match none of the motivations. It was like it was a show, a game, rather than an actual attempt to maximize profits.

“We can do the helicopter, but we can’t give you a pilot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded with a shrug, “Don’t need one.”

It was the first piece of useful information he’d gotten so far on the call. Because if they didn’t need a pilot, it meant one of two things: either one of them possessed the skill themselves, or they weren’t ever intending to use the helicopter.

Briefly pulling the phone away, Hotch turned to Morgan. “Tell Garcia to check our list with people with pilot’s licenses or any other connection that might provide them the skills to fly a helicopter.”

He returned to the call, continuing the usual script for these situations, trying not to act like he’d learned anything new.

“Can you release the women and children?”

“Nah,” the guy said with a chuckle, “I’ll wait.”

Hotch listened to the sound of the receiver for a moment, staring at the entrance to the bank like it would provide him the answers he still needed. He had his suspicions of what might be happening, but with no eyes in the back anymore and the trigger-happy group that had formed around him, he wouldn’t have the resources to convince them not to go in guns blazing.

“We’re ready to move in.” Which is exactly what they had requested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated before finally moving to look at the man next to him, “Something isn’t right here.”

“Yeah, a lot isn’t right here. There’s 19 innocent people in there.”

It didn’t really matter how many times he went through this situation; the results always seemed to be the same. No one listened, even when it wasn’t one of their men inside.

“Storming the building isn’t going to help them. There are three armed perpetrators inside, and they’re each in a different area. It would be impossible for us to take out all three at once. Especially now that we can’t see in the back. There could be explosives in there for all we know.”

The man was unpersuaded.

“If we can’t save them all, minimizing casualties is the name of the game.”

“Wait a few more minutes. I’m waiting to hear back from our analyst. If they have the capability of flying a plane, its highly likely they also have the knowledge and skills to create weapons that we aren’t currently prepared to handle.”

Although still unconvinced, the man grudgingly gave in to the request. Hotch closed his eyes, trying to be grateful for the extremely small victory; they’d gained a few more minutes. But the relief was short lived, with Morgan putting his phone aside for a second to mutter the same thing Hotch was thinking.

“Hotch, these people are way too confident. It’s like they know there’s a way out.”

As soon as he said the words, the two just looked at each other.

“Garcia, can you also check for any other way out of the bank?” He asked, walking back over to the table laid out under the nearby tent. This would have been a great time for Reid to be here, he thought as he stared at the ridiculously complicated schematics.

He understood they didn’t want people to be able to figure them out (so they couldn’t rob the bank), but this was just ridiculous. It looked ancient. 

“Sure thing, but… Morgan, I think there’s something else you should see.” The nerves dancing in her voice told him that they were about to switch subjects. “You know how the guy disabled the camera feed in the back room. I was reviewing the footage we do have and it looks like… (y/n) told him to.”

“Why would she do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he glanced over to the ornate bank doors. Part of him wanted to joke that things would’ve been a lot simpler if he didn’t have to worry about Reid’s weird girlfriend, but it didn’t feel as funny when they were both in danger.

Maybe later, he thought hopefully, when they were all together again.

“I… don’t know why. But I did what you asked, and I went through her record and found a ton of sealed files on her and also her dad…”

Morgan’s attention was definitely piqued at that point, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the stunned silence, Penelope spoke again.

“Should… Should I unseal them?”

It was the same question he was debating in his head, and he honestly didn’t know. Although a long shot, he hoped that she could provide at least the bare minimum of context before they made that kind of decision.

“What kind of files are we talking about?”

“I can’t be sure until I unseal them b-but, I mean, they’re sealed for a reason and I’m talking scary sealed. Like, it might take me a minute sealed. Giving me the heebie-jeebies sealed.” She grew more frantic as she continued. Morgan knew they were running out of time.

“I get it.”

“Is Reid okay?” She switched gears, recognizing that Morgan’s hesitance meant it was probably a bad idea. She wasn’t going to push it unless he did. They didn’t even know if she could help even if they unsealed the files. Especially without a visual.

“They know he’s with us,” Morgan sadly admitted, “I don’t know what’s going on. Did you find another way out of the bank?”

“Right.” The conversation was going to give everyone involved whiplash at this point. “Yes! There is an access way through tunnels underneath the bank but it would take a massive distraction for all three of them to be able to get out of there without us meeting them on the other side. I’m talking earth shatterin–.”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her tongue halting the second her mind caught up with her voice. Morgan was equally concerned, recognizing the kind of distraction that this might require and the perfect way to escape with maximum damage.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. There was no fiery explosion or shouted epiphany, because at that same time there were the muffled sounds of gunshots coming from inside.

“Oh my god, what was that?!” Garcia yelled, accompanied by frantic clicking as she filtered through each individual camera to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Garcia, do you have eyes on the main room?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t in the main room, Derek, it was in the back!”

It was a difficult and necessary job, to consider what those sounds might mean for the young girl they’d met only a few weeks earlier. Morgan’s thoughts went even further, not only worried about her safety, but his best friend’s sanity. Lord knows Reid didn’t need another thing weighing on his conscience. Especially not about her; it just might destroy him.

“What does the unsub in the main area look like? Does he look confused? Surprised?” The words were coming, but he didn’t know where from. His body was on autopilot, desperately seeking any validation that they could still save everyone.

“I-I don’t know! He looks grainy! The image is like an inch wide!” She was clearly growing frustrated, which was a feeling they all shared at this point. “This camera is from before I was even born!”

“Try, Penelope,” Morgan pleaded, “Give me something.”

But the other men weren’t willing to wait.

“That’s it. We’re moving in.”

Morgan turned to them, his hand clutching tighter to the phone just in time for her to speak.

“He’s calling for them but they’re not coming out. He looks… Oh no. He’s yelling at Reid now. And… And it looks like someone is coming down the hallway? But he’s not looking–”

It was impossible to focus on everything that was happening, heavy boots and massive commotion as people began to take their positions. But if someone was coming down the hallway, and the unsub didn’t know, that could only mean a few things. Either he was about to be proven disposable, or someone else had fired those shots.

Either way, one thing was clear.

“Wait! We can’t go in there yet!”

———

There was a point in time where I might have questioned whether I would ever get used to a gun in my face. There was also a point where I actually had gotten used to it. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment, this terrifying realization while staring down the barrel of an assault rifle that I didn’t want to die yet.

I used to think that my life was somewhat disposable. Sure, I was helpful and useful for my job, but ultimately, I considered myself replaceable. The next person to come might not have the same credentials, but they probably wouldn’t also have half the flaws I do.

But now I wasn’t thinking of work. I wasn’t thinking about how replaceable I was, because it wasn’t my life that mattered.

I didn’t want to die yet, because I wanted to see her again.

So I just stared at the weapon, trying to remember that it was still a great possibility that I could. I tried not to think about what was in front of me, choosing to use most of my brainpower to picture what it would feel like when I had her in my arms again.

The vision inside my head ended swiftly, with the sound of rapidly fired weaponry coming from down the hall. Through the commotion of screaming, I surmised that at least two guns had been fired.

Silence followed. It was a stifling, exhausting, painful silence.

What broke it was even worse, with the gun in my face smacking into the side of my head as the man holding it lost his grip at the sound.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He looked at me like he expected me to have the answers, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t—“ Not only did I not understand why two guns would fire, I didn’t know who had shot them or for what reason. There was one thing I did know. “It sounded like your weapons.”

“Hey, what’s going on back there?!” He shouted, twisting his body just enough to see around the corner.

There was no reply.

“Did your people get in here somehow?” The panic was obvious, and I didn’t know how to calm him down without arousing suspicion. He was continuing to devolve, stepping closer to me as he stuck with his original thought, “How the fuck could they have done that, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

It was a question I’d been asking myself. The longer the silence continued in the back, the more rapidly my anxiety rose. There are only a few reasons why we wouldn’t hear more screaming.

Either someone had managed to get remarkable control over the situation, or all of the hostages were dead. Including (y/n). I forced myself to consider the far less likely, but still possible third option: She was dying, and I could still help her.

“I know that there is still a way for you to get out of this.” I barely recognized my own voice as I rambled, “Is it possible your partners… Is it possible they were planning on leaving together?”

“What?” He sounded disgusted and exhausted, but simultaneously insecure. It didn’t take much effort to realize that he was the weakest of the crew. I’d already had my suspicions that whatever the next step in this journey was, he wasn’t going to be making it with them regardless.

“It was their decision to leave you out here, right? In the place with the most windows and the first access to the door? They put you with all the people most likely to fight back. And now it sounds like…”

I paused, my lips unable to make the next words without a deep breath. “It sounds like they killed the people in the back as a diversion to send in SWAT. Does that sound like something they would do?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was enough confirmation for me. It was definitely something they would do, and he knew it. He probably suspected it himself. Thankfully, it gave me enough courage to push back for the first time in this encounter. “Then go back there and see if they’re still there.”

“And just let you be hero and save all these guys? No chance.”

I wanted to laugh; if only he knew the real reason I wanted him to go back there. As terrible as it was, I didn’t care at all about the rest of these men right now. As far as I knew, they were relatively safe. In fact, they were in a better position if what I’d deduced was true. This man, while violent, wasn’t the kind to murder everyone in sight, even when cornered. He’d more likely be shot by SWAT.

“I’ll come with you.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to get more information that I both wanted and feared. He watched me carefully, trying to read the terror on my face to determine where exactly it was coming from. He knew the hostages were useless to him if he had me, so I wasn’t particularly scared for my life.

At least, not just yet.

“Fine. Get up.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking; to just carry me far enough that I could see her face. I just needed to know that she was okay.

But then I felt a fine mist over my skin— it almost felt like the noise happened after, but I knew logically that couldn’t be true.

A gun fires before the bullets hit their target.

Time seemed to move slower as his body fell to the ground in front of me. My eyes followed him to the floor, but only until I saw the person holding the gun through my peripherals.

“…(y/n)?”

And there she was, clutching tightly onto a rifle, her body barely upright as she staggered forward. There was something remarkably off-putting about the sight of her holding on for dear life to something so morbid. A jarring contrast I would not soon be able to forget, if I ever could.

There was something even more unsettling about the ease with which she carried the weapon, and the fact that she had managed to fire something that powerful without a single stray bullet.

“They’re dead!” She boomed across the room, dropping the weapon onto the floor before she yelled again, “Everyone get out! Hurry!”

No one moved. All of the men, myself included, stared at the tiny girl who’d just saved all of our lives.

“Get out now! There’s a bomb in the back!”

Those were the magic words to stir a panicked crowd into action, people stampeding to the single double door at the entrance, but my eyes were fixed on her. She staggered forward, her arm around her waist and her eyes beginning to roll back.

Perhaps I was just clueless, my one-track mind too slow to navigate the scene in front of me, but it took me that long to see it. My brain rioted against the visuals it took in, the dark crimson dripping down her body. It looked like it would swallow her whole.

I tried to will my body to move, to run to her and do something, anything to help her. But I couldn’t, frozen in place as her small steps got weaker. It wasn’t until I saw her begin to sway that I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Wait!” I screamed to anyone who would listen, my eyes frantically trying to meet someone in the crowd, “Someone get a medic!”

The woman with a child was the last one to pass. She stopped among the commotion, looking down at the carnage in my lap before bolting towards the door.

I had to trust that she would care enough to do something, because from that point on my attention wouldn’t be leaving (y/n). Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance and wandering aimlessly despite my face being in view.

“Hey, hey little girl.” My voice crackled as I held her cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

She was finally able to meet my gaze, her eyes filling with love with a small, delirious smile gracing her lips.

“Hey old man.”

The grin didn’t last long, the sounds of her choking and coughing replacing it as blood filled her mouth. I tried to turn her enough that she could spit it out, but it was obvious she was struggling to get any air at all.

“We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” I said with a false confidence, the twisted curve of my lips not even barely resembling a smile.

“It hurts,” she sobbed, her hands slipping in the blood on her stomach.

“I know.”

There wasn’t anything I could do; all I could do was sit there and stare, trying to decide where my hands should be. She was applying pressure to her wound on the front, but I could see the wreckage that was once her back. My hands wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” I was trembling, tears dripping from my face and mixing with the bloody mess; they still couldn’t dilute it, somehow make it vanish. “I know you’re tired. But you’ve gotta stay awake, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

At first, I wanted to say the innocence in her voice was surprising, but it wasn’t. She was innocent. She was just a young girl, trying to live a happy, normal life before she met me.

“You’re doing great.” I tried to convince myself this wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t work. She had said it herself — she wouldn’t have ever come to a bank on her own. The statistics of the rarity of this situation kept playing on a loop in the back of my head, but it was just a low hum beneath the sound of her pained whimpers.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something.” The newfound insistence in her voice twisted in my gut, and my hands held tighter to her arm.

“No, don’t,” I begged, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to tell you right now.” And then her voice was calm, a smile on her face as her blood-soaked hand left her stomach, trying to raise to touch me. It didn’t make it.

“No, you can tell me later.”

The words were so slurred and pathetic, I’m surprised she understood them. But she did, taking a deep, whistling breath. It was clear it hurt her to speak, and I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but the masochist in me needed to hear the words all the same.

“Spencer, please. Just listen to me.”

This sounded too much like a goodbye.

“I love you.”

Our bodies rocked as I realized I hadn’t taken a breath of my own in too long, the pain in my oxygen deprived lungs not nearly enough to distract me from the genuine softness of her voice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Do you know that?”

I don’t know how she wasn’t crying, her eyes barely open but too tired to blink. That rosy complexion had faded, her skin blanching the longer she lay in my arms.

“Yes, I know.”

“I love you with my whole heart.”

My mind was flashing images from only a couple hours prior, her warm laugh as she laid on my lap, the way her hair slipped between my fingers while I wove it together.

‘ _You think you’ll still be around?_ ’

‘ _If you’ll have me._ ’

The memories were blurring together, creating a symphony of promises that were about to be shattered in front of my eyes.

‘ _Forever,_ ’ she’d said. ‘ _Forever._ ’

‘ _A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies. Just a normal, domestic life with Dr. and Mrs. Reid_.’

Rejecting the thought, I shook my head, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I understand what you meant when…” Her voice was too quiet, too distant, to be this warm. “When you said it was nice to be able to say it.” 

The heavy footfalls and sound of a transport bed wheeling across the floor alerted me that I would have to let her go soon. Whether this would be the last time I ever held her, I couldn’t be sure.

“They’re gonna come take you now, but I’ll be right behind them. I promise.” I barely got the words out before their hands were all over her, those tired eyes shooting wide open as unfamiliar hands replaced mine.

“Wait, Spencer!” She cried out, her body too limp to make a meaningful attempt to stop them, “Don’t leave me!”

Her screams and sobs were ringing louder than the gunshots had, my body slowly making its way upright as I watched them place her on the bed.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise.” I tried not to let the panic bleed through, raising the volume as she started to be taken away from me, “Stay awake as long as you can.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her attempts to scream. If she was calling my name, it wasn’t recognizable. I’m not sure which hurt worse— the sound of her tired lips butchering my name, or the silence that followed.

She wasn’t able to scream anymore.

When I emerged from the bank, the sun burned my eyes just as much as the sight of my team shocked to see me covered in blood. But I couldn’t focus on them at all, immediately bolting after the paramedics without another thought.

The extra time it took them to carefully load her allowed me to jump into the back of the vehicle before the doors shut. There were no words to describe this situation, nor make it any better.

So I just stared in horrified fascination, trying to gauge her odds as they rapidly changed in front of me. Of 107,141 firearm injuries last year, 31% died. How many of the 69% had assault rifle wounds? I couldn’t remember any other statistics. My brain had turned itself off, focusing only on the frantic beeping and scrambled voices.

“Where is he?” Her tiny voice cut through both the internal and external noise.

“I’m right here.” I nearly shouted from my precarious position standing in the back of the rattling ambulance. I wanted to move closer, but I was too scared. There were so many hands on her, and I didn’t want to get in the way.

“I’m scared.” She said, mirroring my exact thoughts.

“I’m right here.” I repeated, closing my eyes to hide from the carnage long enough to put words together that might make her feel any ounce of comfort, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking an experimental step forward once the paramedics seemed settled in their places, I came to stand behind her. My hands were tinted red and trembled as they reached out to touch her cheeks.

She took a sharp inhale at the sensation, just barely holding her head up straight. I couldn’t tell if she was leaning into my touch or just couldn’t control her neck any longer. Her skin felt like ice, and although she was still beautiful, the blue tint creeping over her face struck fear in my heart.

“How much longer until we get to the hospital? Her body temperature is dropping.”

If she heard me, she didn’t respond. I stared at the paramedic who was obviously more concerned with other things at the moment. They were kind enough to give me a response, even if it wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Just a few more minutes. We can’t do anything until we stop the bleeding, sir.”

“Spencer…” Each time she spoke was simultaneously terrifying and comforting. It was confirmation she was alive, but also troublesome, because I knew that she should be reserving her efforts for staying alive.

“Hang in there, little girl. We’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes, staring up at me with clouded vision. I could see the pain so clearly it might as well have been me on the table.

“Please help me,” she sobbed, “help me.”

“I-I can’t.” They were the two hardest words I’d ever had to say. Frustration mounted in me, but none of it was directed at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Myself, on the other hand, I hated myself in that moment.

She was begging for me to help her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stand here and watch as she bled out in the back of an ambulance, a stranger’s hands practically inside of her stomach.

“I don’t want to die.”

The way her voice cracked took whatever was left of my sanity with it, and I felt my fingertips slip in the blood as I pressed against her face.

“You won’t,” I tried to assure her, “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t.” The usual spunk in her voice had faded, leaving behind the sound of a twenty year old girl with no fight left in her. “I’m so sorry, Spencer…”

‘ _Sorry?_ ’ I thought below the horror, ‘ _for what_?’

When her eyes shut, they couldn’t even make it all the way. It was an expression I’d seen before on the field. I wasn’t meant to see it on her.

“No. No, no, wake up.” I urged, patting her cheeks softly before closing my hands around them more tightly, “Wake up, little girl, please.”

I was talking to no one, because I don’t think she could hear me anymore. Absolutely nothing in her body changed, even as the paramedics became more rushed.

“I’ve located the bleed!” The woman beside me yelled as the ambulance began to rapidly slow down. “I’m sorry sir, but we need you to move.”

“Whatever you need. Please, just help her.” I’d said the words, but my actions didn’t follow. She stared down at my hands that were still tethered to (y/n)’s face, trying to provide the warmth that she desperately needed.

Somehow, I was able to wrench them away, only then realizing the bloody hand prints I’d left behind. Her face still wasn’t moving.

“Please, I—“

Before I could say another word, they were already out of the ambulance. I followed as closely as I could behind them, trying to focus enough to ensure that every word said could be played again in my mind. Because the second she crossed the threshold into the surgery suite, I wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

I would have to wait. I would have to wait for her to be better, or wait for a declaration. And in that vast silence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop from torturing myself with every single word uttered in this building before the doors closed.

The doors were ahead of us now, and I wished time could slow down enough that I could give her one more kiss and tell her to be strong one more time before she went into the Schrodinger’s Box that was the emergency room operating table.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and when the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I’d never said it back. She’d said it three times, but in my adamant denial I’d failed to return it.

It was so much like us, I’d almost laughed. She’d made such a point of worrying about me leaving her, neither of us had ever stopped to think about how I’d live without her.

How would I live without her? The only person I trusted to have an answer was wheeled into the room, the door shutting abruptly in front of me.

In the reflection of the metal door I saw myself, drenched in the dark liquid. I tried to clean my face with my hand only to realize that they, too, were dirty with her blood.

The world had fallen silent, and I let myself be crushed by the overwhelming loneliness of an existence without her.

‘ _Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid_.’

It was too late.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the hospital there are many tears to be shed, but even more questions to be asked.

Silence could mean many things in a hostage situation. At first, it was preferable; a sign that no one was being harmed. The quiet, relative calmness maintained the current body count.

But when the silence eventually broke, it rattled the earth. The second short spray of bullets was much closer to the door now. If Morgan had any longer to think, he would have held his phone to his ear to hear what Garcia was screaming into the receiver. There was no time to think, though, with his eyes trained on the doors in the hopes he would see Reid.

The SWAT team stopped dead in their tracks, trying to get a grasp of what they were about to walk into. The burst fire was too punctuated for it to have been a full scale assault. The silence settled over them again. Then all at once, a bottleneck of chaos blended SWAT and the sudden outpouring of hostages from the heavy double doors of the bank.

There was no Reid. 

It wasn’t even Garcia who alerted him of the fate of the people who didn’t emerge. No, it was the last woman scrambling out of the doors holding a small child. Morgan rushed forward, fighting through the crowd in an attempt to get through to the inside.

“There’s a bomb inside!” The woman yelled, but it seemed Morgan was the only one who could hear her. He didn’t care about an explosive yet though, his mind zeroed in on the one confirmation he needed before he could care about anything else.

“Someone help, there’s a girl in there! She was shot!”

Finally, Morgan had some information that he could work with. Unfortunately, it was the second to last thing he wanted to hear. With a deep breath, he turned back to see the medics scattering among the crowd of newly released hostages.

“We need medics inside!” He shouted over the fray. The woman, noticing that he was the only one listening, ran over to him with a wild look in her eyes.

“It was the girl who–“ Her words caught in her throat, her breathing just as rapid as her heart, “Sh-She saved us! But they…”

“Is there a man with her?” Morgan interrupted, knowing it wasn’t proper, but needing the answer before the paramedics reemerged.

“Yes!” She shouted back, clutching her baby tighter as one of the paramedics approached them. Morgan held up a hand to tell them to wait a moment longer, noticing that the woman was free of blood or other obvious injury.

“Yes…” She trailed off more quietly, “There was a tall man, with brown hair. There was a lot of blood but… I don’t think it was his. He was trying to help her, I think.”

That did very little to comfort him, but he still put on the calmest face he could and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Thank you. Please go with the paramedics, okay?”

The woman nodded blankly, clearly still shell-shocked from whatever she’d seen inside. Morgan’s stomach knotted, his heart alternating between beating too hard and not at all.

He racked his brain to try and figure out if this was, in some way, his fault. After all, he had been aware of her being in there, and the fact that she was there with Reid. Hell, he’d even known there was some unknown. possibly relevant information in her past. Even if he found out now what was in those files, it was too late for the information to be useful.

And then, there was another commotion at the doors. The stretcher’s white sheets staining red beneath the small, writhing figure currently screaming incoherently. While Morgan’s eyes were on her, Hotch’s were on Reid, who emerged wide-eyed and frantic. There was no hesitation before he bolted after the bed, jumping into the back of the ambulance and disappearing behind the doors.

“Morgan. Where is Reid going?” It was clear from his tone that Hotch’s question demanded an answer, but Morgan was too afraid to give one. Still not entirely convinced that this wasn’t somehow his fault, his voice stalled in his throat.

“If you know what’s going on, you need to tell me right now.” Hotch continued, his voice equally frustrated and sympathetic. They both knew that there was something bigger going on, and that whatever reason Morgan had for not sharing, it must matter.

“He knows her.” It was a quiet admission that still hid most of the truth. Processing the thought out loud with the tiniest amount of pride, he continued, “He knows the girl who took them down.”

“How does he know her?”

Morgan bit his tongue, understanding that the cat was already out of the bag, that Hotch would figure it out in seconds anyway. He sighed, turning to look at Hotch as he admitted,“It’s his girlfriend, Hotch.”

“Why didn’t you tell me his girlfriend was inside?” He immediately shot back, his brows furrowed and his voice containing more force than reasonably necessary. But Morgan didn’t blame him, knowing that he’d broken one of their most valuable promises not to withhold important information.

In his defense, though, he hadn’t known how valuable it might turn out to be. He still didn’t. However, he didn’t want to make the argument right now. There were more important things to be worried about. “I’m sorry. I-I don’t have a good reason.”

“We both know what can happen when our loved ones are in danger, Morgan.”

There was a hidden message in his words, the dark reminder of just how easily Hotch had fallen from grace when his family was at risk. Although they both knew that this girl wasn’t the same as his wife or the mother of his children, love was still a terrifying, powerful thing. 

“Look, I’m sorry, Hotch. I was going to tell you, but…”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is (y/n)(y/l/n). She’s…” He trailed off, trying to remember the details in his current adrenaline filled haze. There was so much going on, and so much to say. Trying to sift through the facts seemed so pointless if there was nothing they could do now, anyway. “She’s just some girl he met at a bar.”

But when he turned to Hotch, he didn’t find the solemn neutrality or stoic nature he was expecting. Shock lined his face, his eyes narrowed and avoidant when he finally asked, “How much do you know about her?”

“I had Garcia look her up,” Morgan started hesitantly, noting the strange behavior from his boss, “…but all the files we found were sealed.”

Even stranger was the fact that Hotch didn’t seem to process the answer. He walked back to the poor excuse of a computer set up that was displaying the last still image from the backroom before the camera feed had been cut.

Seated in the back, with a deep frown and furrowed brow, was (y/n).

“I was going to ask you before we unsealed them, but–“

Hotch stopped Morgan from going any further now that he had confirmation the girl was who he thought she might be. “We wouldn’t have needed to.” Turning to Morgan with a distant confusion, he shook it off and confidently stated, “I already know what’s in them.”

—

It might be strange, but I’ve always enjoyed the process of washing my hands. There was something about the repetitive action that was always comforting. As a kid, I was fascinated and horrified to watch the water splashing onto the white ceramic, a different shade from when it came out of the faucet.

But the disgusting realization was okay, because the water would always return to nothingness as all the problems of the day that still clung to me slowly receded down the drain.

The water would always return to its translucency – until now. Now, the pink, red, and brown streaks continued. In fact, it seemed that the longer the water ran, the more colors were mixed with the sterile white of the hospital bathroom.

My eyes were fixated on the colors as they circled the drain, my nails desperately scratching at the skin in the hopes that I could feel clean again. The scalding water burned, but it was nothing compared to the sensation of my heart being ripped to shreds.

The usually cheery memories of her face were warping before they could even fully materialize, now tainted with gunshots and _more fucking blood_. I couldn’t hear the sound of her voice without the overlapping screaming. When that ended, it was replaced with her quiet pleading.

‘ _Please, help me_. _Help me_.’

I’d always warned her not to view me as the hero I knew she liked to think I was. All of those terrible fears she’d had about my job had materialized, but not in the way either of us were expecting. Then again, I guess it was my fault.

‘ _As long as you are mine, I won’t let anything happen to you_.’ I’d promised her that. I’d wrapped my pinky around her ridiculously smaller one and told her that I would always protect her.

But when she had been begging for my help and telling me she didn’t want to die, all I had been able to do was stare helplessly. She was so young, and I was an idiot for thinking I could keep her safe from the world. Her last words to me before she stopped talking were a fucking _apology_.

“Reid.” Morgan’s voice was behind me, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from the water until it ran clean again.

“Reid!” He shouted more insistently, his hand grabbing my arm to pull it out from underneath the water. “Snap out of it! You’re hurting yourself!”

It was the first time in a while that I’d actually seen my arm, the patches I could reach finally clean of her blood, but now covered in thin streaks of raw, welted skin from where I’d scratched it until it broke.

But the relatively clean appearance of my arms did nothing for the rest of me; my clothes still covered in the darkness and stench of dead tissue and iron.

Suddenly, I couldn’t keep myself upright any longer, my head reeling from the sight. Before I could hit the ground, he caught me, his embrace not at all hesitant or worried about dirtying his own clothing.

“I can’t get it off,” I mumbled, my breathing suddenly getting hurried, “I can’t get it… I-I can’t–”

Slowly, he lowered us to where I could rest on the ground, my hands gripping my chest through my wet shirt like I could force my lungs to work again.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Morgan instructed calmly, “Breathe.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He took a pause, breathing in slowly with the hope that I would follow suit. I tried, feeling the way my entire body shook with barely enough air to fill half my lungs. In the back of my head, I heard the way she whistled and choked on her own failing breath.

But then he was breathing out, holding onto my shoulders and refusing to look at the mess that covered me. I hated to admit that what he was doing was working. Part of me felt like it was almost unfair of me to not be breaking down right now, however backwards the thought seemed.

“Have they…” My voice was quiet when I dared to use it again, “Have they said anything yet?” I hoped the answer was no; if it was yes, then I didn’t want to hear that news.

“No. No news is good news.” Morgan replied, reading my mind and trying to reassure me all the same, “It means she’s still hanging in there. She’s a tough kid, right?”

I knew he didn’t mean anything by calling her kid, just trying to lighten the dismal mood, but it still felt like a punch in the gut. She was _twenty_.

“At least, she’s a better shot than you.”

This time I did laugh, rubbing my eyes with my hands now that they were free of the foul liquid. “I didn’t even know she knew how to shoot a gun.” I knew I was whining, but I didn’t care. This all felt so unfair. “Definitely not a fucking semiautomatic.”

“She saved your life.”

If that was supposed to help, it didn’t. My emotions were on a hairpin trigger. “She—She got herself shot! She shouldn’t have…” I trailed off, my hands lacing through my hair and trying to find any stimulus that would distract my thoughts pouring out of my mouth faster than I could process. “She didn’t know what she was doing. She’s basically still a fucking kid. And now I’m going to lose her.”

I paused, looking up at him with red rimmed eyes that were started to tear again. “I-I’m going to lose her, Derek. Because _I_ fucked up and she had to save _me._ ”

“Whoa there, that’s not fair.” He was stern, his hands tightening against my shoulders like the action could knock some sense into me. “She might be young but she knew what she was doing, Reid. She would have done it whether you were there or not. She couldn’t even see you, she had no idea you were in trouble.”

He was right. There had been no reason for her to believe that I couldn’t get out of there on my own. Like I’d just been thinking while wallowing, she never stopped looking at me like a hero. Maybe that was the real reason I hated myself so much.

“ _She_ was in trouble! This is my fucking job – I’ve trained for this, and the one time someone I love is in the one scenario I’m actually useful, I failed!” My voice bounced from the walls, shaking the air in the room from the sheer volume and frustration. He was trying to keep our eye contact, but I saw the way his eyes shook as he struggled to find words to make this any better.

“You weren’t there as a profiler, Reid. You were there as a man scared about the woman he loved getting hurt. It’s not the same. We all know that.”

But did we all know that? I wasn’t so sure. We’d each been personally involved in a case before. Gideon, Hotch, and Rossi had all watched as someone they loved paid the ultimate price. That was the cost of loving us, it seemed.

“She has to wake up soon. I can’t handle this,” I cried, shrinking in on myself, “I-I need to see her.”

“You know these surgeries take hours. Go home and clean up. I’ll call you the second anything happens. But you’ll be back before then and you know it.” Morgan massaged my shoulders; a small comfort to the exhausted yet tensed muscles.

“I don’t have my car.”

“Hotch will take you.”

It was the first time since this had begun that I thought about the rest of the team. The self-hatred burned anew as I thought back to how terrified I had been for her to meet them. It seemed so stupid now. I could deal with the awkward bullshit and explanations. They were _nothing_ compared to this.

What I wouldn’t have given, to be able to introduce them right now, and to see the way her face would light up with excitement and nerves at meeting the people she already knew way too much about.

“Does he know?” A stupid question, but one that needed to be asked nonetheless.

“I think they’ve put it together, yeah. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want it to happen like this.”

“I don’t care about anything as long as she wakes up.” I wiped my face again, the tears catching on patches of dried blood that I tried not to think too hard about.

“She will. Now get up. This floor is disgusting.” he laughed while trying to get up without having to make any more contact with the tile. “Honestly, man, of all the people to sit here…”

Then my thoughts were on her again, thinking about the way she had squealed when I licked her hand before she tackled me onto the ground. A bitter laugh escaped me. “I was rolling around on the ground in the park with her before this.”

He returned my sad, unsure smile with his own. The story was brief, but told him everything he needed to know about me and her. Offering me a hand, he nodded while trying to smile. “She can tell me all about it later.”

I took his hand, hoping that once I started to move, I would keep going until I found myself back at her side. When I left the bathroom, I was only a little surprised to see Hotch talking to one of the physicians. My heart sunk at the sight, and I prayed that when he turned to me, it wouldn’t be with any news.

But there was nothing. He was just checking in on the status of (y/n), along with the others with minor injuries from the stampede of people fleeing at once. Besides his initial, casual greeting, he was silent after I asked him to take me home. We’d made it halfway down the highway before the low hum of the vehicle and wind was broken with his voice.

“I understand this is a difficult time to talk about this, but I’ve found that silence is the worst course of action in situations like this. You need to get out of your own head.”

It was easier said than done. Although, I guess he already knew that.

“I can’t stop. My brain won’t stop. It just keeps… showing me. Over and over again.” I mumbled, continuing to rub my eyes like the external force would stop the images playing on repeat. “I can’t stop trying to figure out where the bleed was and what the odds of survival are and how long it took us to get to the emergency room and— “

“She’s the girl from the phone, right?”

The sudden shift in conversation succeeded in breaking my concentration. I turned to him with furrowed brows and an unsure pout. “What?”

“Months back, I called you to find out where you were. A girl answered your phone. It was her, right?”

My pout shifted into a shy smile. It felt wrong for my muscles to make that shape right now, but the memory was just too pleasant to pretend like it didn’t make me exceedingly happy.

“Yes.” I said quietly, my fingers tangling together as I tried to recall the way it had felt for her to drape her arms over my shoulders, whispering into the phone at my ear. “You must have been seeing each other for a while now.”

For some reason, this didn’t feel as awkward as it should have. I had always pictured the conversation being so stifling and uncomfortable that it would be difficult to speak, but it wasn’t.

“It was… complicated.” I still wasn’t eloquent in my response. Hotch seemed to understand, responding in his own vague generalities.

“Not enough to break you two apart, it seems.”

“Yeah, guess not.” _Not yet._

If Hotch could hear the uncertainty in the words, he didn’t mention it. He’d let it go, instead focusing his efforts on validating my choice in women. “She was very impressive. Eventually you should see what she did.” It was high praise from him, and I was a little shocked he didn’t make the same joke Morgan had made in the bathroom.

“I’m not sure how familiar you are with her past but… her father trained her well. And because of that, she saved the lives of dozens of people.”

Wait, what was that? I didn’t have time to focus on the bizarre new information, with him immediately continuing. 

“You should be proud of her.”

Once again, I felt my chest tighten as the air was knocked out of me by the statement. Both members of my team that I’d spoken to so far had told me what a hero she was. That she’d saved the day.

“I am. I’m proud of her. I just wish she hadn’t done it. I wish…”

I was trying to find a way to explain that I didn’t give a shit about anyone else right now. It was wrong and bad, but it was true. I didn’t care about how many people lived if it cost her life. It wasn’t worth it. And that was the thought that led me down the path we were always supposed to avoid. It seemed so inevitable.

“I wish it could have been me that got shot instead.”

“I’m certain she wouldn’t have appreciated that.” He said it like a joke, and the jarring sound of the words in such a cadence tore me away from the destructive cycle in my mind again. He glanced over to confirm he’d succeeded before continuing with a gentler tone. “It’s clear that you love her very much. I’m sure she knows that, Reid. That kind of thing is powerful.”

Even knowing that we hadn’t been that far when the conversation had started, I was shocked to see that we were already parking in front of my building. The idea of being alone again so soon was harder than I’d thought it would be. Hotch must have sensed the hesitance, because he looked over at me with the utmost sympathy. 

“I’m confident that things will work themselves out. Even if it doesn’t feel that way right now.”

I nodded, choosing to accept that he was the expert here, not me. I knew all about the statistics of grief and death and dying, but right now I wasn’t sure which category I was supposed to fall into. Everyone always told me my intuition was terrible, so I’d just have to… wait.

“I can take a taxi back to the hospital. I’m sure you have other things to do.” I said, realizing that he was waiting for me to get out of the car. I didn’t mean to seem like I was rushing, but I didn’t want to waste any more time. The quicker I cleaned up, the quicker I could go back to the hospital. It wouldn’t change how long it took them to let me see her, but I wouldn’t have to worry about missing my first (and possibly only) chance to see her again.

“If it’s alright, I was planning on waiting with you. I might not know (y/n) but I am acquainted with her father and I’d like to talk with her when she’s able. Before the prosecutor can find her.”

Narrowing my eyes at the second mention of her father, I gave another brief nod. “Sure,” I mumbled, deciding that it was a question for another, better day.

—

The lights filtering through the window and blanketing the bed I lay in may have illuminated the room, but I felt no warmth from their touch. It was an unsettling lack of feeling that was quickly forgotten when I felt a hand snake around my waist, pulling me back against a body that held all the warmth I sought.

“Good morning, Mrs. Reid.”

It wasn’t just his breath, but his words that tickled my ear. A smile sprouted across my lips as I shimmied back against him, laughing as he peppered kisses along my neck.

“Hey old man.” I whispered, turning to face him. Some deeper part of me was surprised to see exactly what I expected. Hazel eyes bouncing across my face while my hands tangled in his mousy brown locks. “What are you doing up so early?”

Before he could answer, there was a high-pitched cry muffled through a speaker, although I could hear it in the hall. While I turned towards the sound, he just laughed. “My body was prepared.”

“What is that?” I asked, trying to understand why this felt so familiar and so very unreal.

Spencer didn’t seem concerned at all, slipping out from under the covers and putting on enough clothes to be presentable. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s our daughter.” He said with a smile, glancing back at me like it was the simplest conclusion in the world. “If you’ve forgotten that, you should go back to sleep.”

He walked over, planting a kiss directly on my forehead as I clutched the sheets closer to my body.

“You stay here,” he mumbled before breaking away, “I’ve got her.”

I didn’t need memories to know that this wasn’t an entirely uncommon experience. Something told me that Spencer jumped at basically any opportunity to hold a baby – especially if it were his. _If it were?_ I thought. He’d just told me it was ours.

 _Ours_.

Shaking the thought away, I climbed from the bed, noticing that the hardwood floor underneath me didn’t feel cold, either. Nonetheless, I carried myself to the wardrobe just to realize that I was already dressed.

The unsettling feeling continued, but the world around me seemed so inviting, I didn’t want to think too hard about it. So I exited the room, only making it halfway down the hallway that seemed peculiarly longer than I remembered.

A small child that I instinctively recognized as my son stepped out from one of the rooms with a wide pout, holding onto a small adipose plush. “Mom,” he whined, “the baby woke me up again!”

His big brown eyes were hidden behind glasses, but they still looked so much like their father’s. I reached down to them, sweeping the willing child into my arms with no hesitation. He felt so much lighter than he should have, but I just assumed it was from muscle memory.

“I’m sorry, love.” I cooed, holding him closer to me and feeling soft breath against my shoulder. “How about we go start breakfast? Then later we can take a long nap.”

“I hate naps.”

“Only for now,” I dutifully reminded him while we made our way to the kitchen, “You’ll miss them sooner than you think.”

There was a faint huff from him, his toy bouncing against my back. “You _always_ say that.”

I set him down on the couch, tapping lightly on his nose and watching as his glasses tilted down.

“Because it’s true.” 

Any objections were quickly muted by the sound of the tv clicking on. The familiar classical music that accompanied Baby Einsteins filled the room. A calmness washed over me, allowing me the peace of mind to begin preparing coffee and food.

It all seemed so remarkably effortless, like I’d done it a million times before. But it also felt foreign and new. I wondered if this was what it meant to be happy. That was, until I saw Spencer poke around the corner carrying a baby that was squirming so much I was honestly scared she might claw his eye out.

“So,” he started with an exasperated tone, trying to dodge tiny hands, “apparently there is only so much I can do before even the biggest daddy’s girl wants her mother.”

The laugh I returned shook my chest, carrying me over to him with a mug in hand. “Thanks anyway. I’ll trade you the baby for coffee.”

“I love you too much for words, little girl.”

The words twisted my gut. Why did they make me so sad? I didn’t say them back, finding my lungs empty. He didn’t seem to mind, walking over to the couch while I cradled the now already sleeping infant in my arms.

I don’t know how much time passed, but it felt like none at all. It was like I’d turned around to find the full meal beside me, the light from the sun already fading. Maybe Spencer was right, and I should try to go back to sleep. 

“Hey mommy?” My son had appeared next to my leg, as if on cue.

“Yes, dear?” I asked, albeit a bit distantly. I hoped that he was already ready for his nap, like his sister clearly was. I tried to find a clock, but there were none around.

 _That’s strange_.

“I think daddy is waiting for you.”

The tiny voice ripped my attention away again, and that sick feeling deep in my stomach returned. “What are you talking about? Your father’s right here.”

But when I turned to motion to the couch, I found there was no one there. Something told me that there had never been _anyone_ there. My chest tightened, and my arms began to shake.

“Spencer?” I called out, noticing that my arms only held a blanket. “Spencer, where are you?” Louder now, I tried to drown out the sounds of blood rushing in my ears. The panicked breathing should have felt like something, but there was no burning and no lightheaded rush.

I wanted to shout out the names of my children, but realized I didn’t know them. They weren’t here, either. Suddenly, it felt like someone was tearing me open, and I looked down to be met with nothing but blood drenching my entire lower half. It pooled on the ground below, staining the blanket that had fallen into the mess.

—–

The first sound I heard was my own weak gasp, my body jerking awake unceremoniously. The movements caused razor like pains through my stomach, but I couldn’t bring my hand to it. Looking down, I realized why it felt so heavy.

Spencer’s head was resting against my lap, his hand curled around mine and desperately holding on, even in his deep state of slumber. The memories all came rushing back at once, but I tried to push them away. I didn’t want to think about it yet.

It felt wrong to wake him, but the urge to touch him was too strong to resist. My other hand came, slowly and shaking, to rest against his hair. Just as I had been shaken awake, he similarly shot up in bed the second I touched him.

“You look like shit, old man.”

The only way to describe the look on his face was shock and confusion, immediately followed by an overwhelming relief.

“(Y/n), oh my god.” The words stumbled out of his mouth before he even took a breath. His arms were thrown around my shoulders within seconds, and I ignored the searing pain that blossomed in my stomach when he did. I didn’t care if it hurt; I wanted to feel him. “Thank god.”

“No clever comeback?” I said with a sly smile, my head burying in his neck and noting that he smelled so much more pleasant than the bleach and blood we were surrounded by. How long had I been asleep?

“No, I don’t care,” he said quickly, the words flowing quicker than I could process, “You can be as mean as you want to me, I don’t care.” His words were half said through a chuckle. I could hear the distinct sound of tears hitting the pillow next to my ear.

“I’m never mean to you.” I mumbled against him, although we both knew it wasn’t true.

It made him comfortable enough that he pulled back, both hands cradling my jaw. He ran his thumbs over my face, laughing once again at the way my lips followed after in a smile that stretched across my cheeks.

“How are you feeling?”

I thought about my answer for a minute, knotting my brows before finally settling on a feeling. “Like I was shot with an assault rifle… then hit by a train.”

“Well, one of those things happened.” His smile quickly faded at the thought, the tears in his eyes beginning to pool and fall anew. He looked exhausted.

“Was everyone okay? At the bank?” It seemed like the natural next question, something to draw his attention back away from the nature of my injuries. I didn’t want to think about them, either. I especially didn’t want to think about what drugs they currently had me on to combat the pain that was still drowning out almost all other thoughts.

“Yes.” He nodded as he spoke, his hands stroking my hair, face, and arms - anywhere he could reach. Like he was trying to convince himself that I was, in fact, there. “You were a real hero.”

The word made me cringe for reasons I wasn’t ready to get into. I flinched away from his hand at the sound, grimacing as I corrected the idea. “Stop. I was just looking out for myself.”

“That’s not true.” He was just as ready to combat any self-deprecation, moving his hands down to hold mine in my lap. His grip was firm, and I wondered if it would hurt if it weren’t for the drugs. Our arms were shaking from the tension and nerves, his breathing slowly finding a normal rhythm the longer he touched me.

“No, I guess not,” I teased, “I had to save my boyfriend’s stupid ass.”

Maybe I’d made the joke too soon, because Spencer nearly collapsed back in his chair, his head falling back to my lap with a heavy exhale. I didn’t need to see his face to know he was hiding more tears from me. It was like the initial relief of seeing me again had faded, leading him straight into the depths of regret.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He mumbled, his voice crackling with each syllable, “I was so scared.”

All the pent up emotions were pouring out of him at once, and I silently wondered just how much of a mess he had been while he waited for me to wake up. It hurt to see him like this now. I hated knowing I did this to him.

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m fine.” I instructed, trying to pull him back off my lap. As much as I didn’t want to see him cry, seeing his face still gave me an immense amount of comfort. Even with red sclera and dark bags, his eyes were filled with all the affection a man could possibly hold.

“No you’re not fine,” he said with a clear anger, although it obviously wasn’t directed at me, “You’re not fine at all. You’re objectively not fine. Y-You almost died.” His hands were struggling to remain still, his shoulders hunching and his body beginning to slowly rock in all the typical self-soothing motions I almost never saw in him.

It hurt, seeing him hurt. It hurt worse than my recently patched together abdomen, and I wanted to do whatever I could to take that feeling away from him. But I knew there was very little that could be done other than to just exist in this chaotic space with him.

I took one hand back, using it to gingerly raise his chin so that he was looking back to the most reassuring smile I could possibly give in my current state. “But I didn’t. I’m very much still here, Dr. Reid.”

He tried to smile, but it faltered back to a frown. Taking my hand, he placed it against his cheek, trying to focus on the contrast of the rough stubble against the soft skin of my palm.

“You’re stuck with me.” I joked, scrunching my nose in a goofy grin before sticking out my tongue. It got me the laugh I was looking for, and that alone made it worth the emotional energy it required.

Standing up again, Spencer came into a gentler embrace than before, pressing a careful kiss against my lips. All of the happy thoughts and feelings from my dream seemed to rush to the front of my mind, my body immediately responding to the flood of endorphins I got from his touch.

I pressed harder against his face, wishing I could show him the dream my subconscious had drummed up when I needed comfort most of all. It felt so wonderfully cheesy and cliche, to dream of a perfect life with him.

His eager lips wouldn’t pull away, even when it was obvious we both needed to breathe. I laughed into his mouth, pulling away from him and bringing his face back to rest against my shoulder. He happily accepted the contact, nuzzling into my hair while I filled my lungs once more.

That was when I noticed a woman, standing awkwardly a few feet away from the door. When our eyes met, I immediately recognized her. Although I’d never seen her in person, I had watched enough interviews and heard enough about her from Spencer to know that it was JJ.

Her eyes flickered down to Spencer practically draped over me, and then back to meet my eyes. I watched her make the connection between the two, a small, lopsided smile creeping over her face. It took me another second to realize that I probably didn’t look the friendliest, my possessiveness and insecurity burning through my body although she didn’t deserve it.

But there was something about the way she was looking us, her entire body relaxing at the sight. She didn’t stick around long enough for me to think to alert Spencer of her presence, and I was still scared that if I did, he might leave my side. So I just sighed, my hands dropping down to my side as I leaned back against the bed.

“What’s wrong?”

I knew he would notice my sudden change in demeanor, but hoped that he would just write it off as pain. “Nothing.” I sighed again, lazily petting his messy hair, “I just zoned out for a second.”

He’d at least had enough time to go home and shower, but beyond that I had no idea how long it’d been since I was brought here. I hoped that someone had at least alerted my friends, and my mom, even if I didn’t exactly want to see her right now. Felt like a thing I was supposed to do.

“How long have you been here?” I asked, deciding to focus on the man in front of me instead of the countless people who might not even know to be worried yet.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, seemingly forgetting that he was supposed to know everything. Glancing up at the analog clock on the wall rather than the LED screen hanging right next to him, he did the mental math to piece it all together. “It’s been fifteen hours and seventeen minutes.”

Scoffing at the ridiculously large number said like it was nothing, I swatted at his hand in a playful chastisement. “Idiot. You must be exhausted.”

He gave a nervous chuckle, catching my hand and rubbing gentle circles, carefully avoiding the IV needle I’d almost forgotten was there. It clearly upset him to see it, his nose scrunching up in an attempt to blink away the tears. “I wasn’t going to be able to sleep anywhere else, anyway,” he quietly admitted.

With a sneaky, playful look, I turned to the side of the side of the bed opposite the majority of my wound. He figured out my thought process before I voiced it, but I didn’t give him the opportunity to protest. “Do you think you can fit your tall, scrawny ass on this bed with me?”

He shook his head no, flashing a pathetic combination of a pout and a smile, “No, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep either, though!” I whined. There was a clear contemplation, his body swaying back and forth and inching closer to me. Gathering all of my strength, I tried to move over with a small groan.

Spencer stopped me, reaching over and pulling the sheet under me to the side. I laughed at how much faster I went with his help (and with significantly less pain). A physics feat they probably factored into hospital beds, I guess. Figures he would know.

I settled into my new position, one hand resting a few inches lower than the stitches that I’d already managed to aggravate. I used the other hand to pat the bed gently. “Come on, old man.”

When he did finally climb up, he was mostly still hanging off, holding onto the bar on the opposite side to keep him from tumbling down. I’m sure it was exceedingly uncomfortable, but I figured neither of us really cared; having him here with me was all that mattered. 

“I love you, Spencer.” This time, the quiet admission wasn’t marred by blood on my tongue or fresh tears. It was followed by his lips lightly dancing over my cheek, his hand resting against my quiet heartbeat.

“I love you, too, little girl. I love you so much.”

—

After four surgeries and two weeks in the godforsaken inpatient, I was happy to finally be heading home. So happy, in fact, that just waiting for the doctor to come back to give me that final piece of paper was _excruciating_.

Spencer on the other hand, had looked like he was happy to keep me in the hospital forever. He’d even tried to convince me to ask if I could extend my stay. Although, to be fair, he also ranted about the infection rates in hospitals and how many people die from hospital-acquired pneumonia.

He was torn on a lot, but the one thing he was happy about was that he’d gotten to be with me throughout my stay. Two weeks of Spencer in Virginia was a godsend, but one that would be ending soon. I tried not to think about it. I hadn’t even asked him when he would start traveling again.

“Ms…. (Y/l/n).” The man who walked into the room didn’t even look up before he started talking. Part of me wanted to tell him I wasn’t the right patient, just to see if he would bother confirming it. It was fine, though. Military hospitals had never really been known for their stellar hospitality.

Fix up a bullet wound real nicely, though.

“I know you requested no narcotics, but I’m going to send you home with a prescription just in case.”

The words signaled a fight I wasn’t ready to have yet. I felt Spencer’s eyes burning into the top of my head from his position behind the wheelchair.

“That’s fine,” I mumbled, scratching my head and only barely wincing at the way it tugged at the skin. Spencer noticed, because of course he did.

“Great. Otherwise, you have your scheduled check ups for the next few weeks as well as your physical therapy. It’s important you follow it as best you can.” He was signing the charts haphazardly, flipping through the papers at a speed that might convince someone he wasn’t really looking at all. It made me smile for just a second, thinking about how Spencer actually could read it that quickly. I’m certain he would, too.

“Most of the damage was to your organs, but the muscles there are very important.”

“Got it.” I flashed a thumbs up and a weak, sarcastic smile. Physical therapy was the fucking worst. Truthfully, I would fudge on it if I wasn’t absolutely certain that Spencer would force me to by threat of him crying. My sweet, sensitive, idiot boyfriend. He liked to act so tough.

“Okay. You have my contact information if you have any other complaints.”

Before the door had even shut all the way, Spencer’s stern voice filled the room. “Why aren’t you taking the narcotics?”

“Because, Spencer, I don’t need them.” I sighed, rolling my eyes as I felt the weight of his hands leave the handles of the transport chair. Somehow, I managed to avoid looking at him even when he crouched down to my height. 

“Please don’t do this.” His voice took on that caretaker cadence, his hand reaching out to bring my attention back to him. “It’s not fair to you.”

Staring directly into his eyes this time, I tried to enunciate as clearly as I could while still under the influence of the last of the IV narcotics. “Spencer, I’m not **doing** anything. I don’t need them.”

I wasn’t stupid, I knew it was going to hurt. And I very well might cave. But for the time being, I just didn’t want to deal with the mess that comes with a pill bottle full of temptation. It’d been years since I’d touched a narcotic.

“I know you’re doing this because you don’t want them around me.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. That was the deciding factor, but it wasn’t the only thing I considered. The truth was, I just wasn’t ready to share half my history with him yet. In fact, knowing about his past made it all the harder to tell him. It was a conversation we’d eventually have, but not right now.

“Spencer. Listen to me. That’s not the only reason I’m doing it. Okay?” I pleaded with my voice, and heart, reaching out to grab his face and squish his cheeks together in the hopes it would make him laugh. “You don’t have to feel guilty.”

“Too late.”

I smiled, continuing to play with his cheeks and make funny faces despite the clear frustration in his voice.

“You were shot. You’ve had multiple surgeries.” He grabbed my hands, prying them off his own face and holding them tightly. His voice growing lower and more serious, he followed my face while I tried to look away. “You need to take care of yourself.”

With a stubborn huff, I dropped my head back dramatically. “I thought taking care of me was _your_ job?” I loudly whined, flashing the most dramatic pout possible.

Finally, he laughed, returning the favor of squishing my cheeks with one hand over my jaw. “Not a job,” he dreamily sighed, “Just a privilege.”

“You know…” I whispered sneakily, leaning forward and talking through still puckered lips, “I’ve heard kisses and cuddles are a very effective form of pain relief.”

Spencer snorted, standing up and abandoning his place in front of me to return to the wheelchair handles. I was glad to finally be on my way out, especially since I seemed to have avoided most of the difficult emotions that were waiting just across the horizon.

“Yeah, they normally do… Except I know where they lead when it’s you.” The tease made me scrunch up my face in a sarcastic smile, leaning my head back so he could see my displeasure. Although he tried to look like he was avoiding the sight, I spotted his eyes flash down for a second.

I shook my head, laughing at the idea of me trying to jump him with fresh stitches in my stomach. “Spencer, my stomach was blown open. It’ll be _at least_ a few weeks before I’m trying to jump your bones again.”

Under his breath, he whispered, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

We navigated the rest of the hospital in relative silence, although I felt the unasked and unanswered questions weighing down on me. I wondered how long it would be before Spencer had to learn the truth.

It had been awkward enough talking to his boss, but to show him a side of me that he had no idea about? Terrifying. Although, I think deep down he _did_ know. He just didn’t want to think about it, either.

Once we were in the car, I asked the most pressing question. It also happened to be the one I was dreading the most.

“When do you think you’ll be back on your crazy traveling schedule?”

Spencer let out a heavy exhale through his nose, turning the car on and letting the engine kick on and quiet before he gave his answer. “I’m… supposed to start again next week.”

“Oh, okay.” I knew it was coming, but it didn’t hurt any less. I readjusted in my seat, holding the seatbelt away from my skin and running my nails gently across the fabric.

“What’s wrong?”

It was honestly a dumb question. I knew he was either asking it as a trick to see whether I would lie about something so obvious, or he wanted me to make him feel better about the fact he was leaving so soon.

Stupid serial killers.

“Nothing.” I’d started to lie, but my stupid mouth and the stupid narcotics decided to spoil all my plans. “I just got spoiled with you always being here.” I stopped, looking over at him now that his hands fell from the steering wheel.

He had clearly been hoping I’d make him feel better, and I’d very clearly done the opposite.

“I’ll just miss you,” I tried to explain it away, “I’ll be fine.”

“I promise I’ll call you every day.” There was a guilt in his voice that hurt me worse. I didn’t want him to make me promises. I knew what his job was like, and he was destined to break it. It just wasn’t worth the broken expectations.

My eyes fixed on my hands as they ran along the strip of slightly fraying fabric, I mumbled absently. “No, don’t promise that. Your job is important.”

“Hey.” There was the serious tone again, his hand reaching out and turning my dilated pupils back to his eyes. It wasn’t a smile, but a straight, deadly serious expression. “You’re important.”

He always knew what to say to make me melt into his hands, my face already warming from his touch alone. I honestly thought I might fucking cry, which just felt so stupid and cliché. When he went to pull his hand back, I stopped him, bringing it back to my face. He gave a soft laugh, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against my forehead.

“Can you stay with me tonight?” I asked, my voice quiet and shaking. The request felt so intimate, knowing that he would have to spend the night taking care of me rather than getting the rest he so desperately needed. 

“Of course.” He muttered the words against my forehead, breathing in the smell of my hospital issued shampoo like it was something worth remembering. “You didn’t honestly think I was going to let you sleep through the first night alone, did you?”

“I guess not.” I laughed, finally letting him go. It was crazy just how exhausted I was every second of the day on these damn drugs, and I’m convinced I’d fallen asleep before we’d even left the parking garage.

Within what felt like seconds, we were already back at my place. I could tell by his sad smile that Spencer wished that he could’ve just carried me inside, but the pain alone would’ve woken me up. Still groggy, we managed to make our way into the bed.

It felt so foreign but inviting, to finally be back in my own room. Having a bed that would actually fit both of us was also a big plus. He curled up next to me in no time, his arms having found the perfect position to maximize contact without hurting me.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

My eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, my eyes immediately darting away from the question on his lips. But I couldn’t be blamed for that - it was, quite honestly the most anxiety inducing question ever.

“That depends…” I slurred through my lingering sleepiness. Cautiously, I turned my head to look at him. He was staring up at me with those big, sensitive eyes.

 _Oh, God_. This is about to get emotional.

“Hotch told me something when he drove me home from the hospital that night, and I wanted to ask you about it.”

I visibly cringed at that, clenching my eyes shut and shimmying further up in the bed to act like it was my stomach that’d caused the pain. “Okay.” I muttered through a breath.

“He told me… That he knows your father.” There was clearly another question within that one, and I decided to address that one first.

“Yeah, he mentioned that to me, too. I didn’t know Hotch, though. Not until now.”

Spencer noticed my evasion and immediately followed up with a more pointed inquiry. “How do they know each other?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair while I tried to figure out how to explain this in the simplest possible terms. I knew Spencer wasn’t going to question me too hard, and I should be happy to have this conversation while inebriated. But it still just felt so… scary.

“I don’t know.” It was the truth, albeit the extremely condensed version.

He had already grown uncomfortable by my obvious discomfort, his hand flowing up and down my arm before coming to my face, his thumb stroking my cheek softly. “If you don’t want to answer, you can just tell me that.” It was obvious that he meant it, the genuine nature of his words coming through every touch. “We can just go to sleep.”

The tenderness displayed reminded me that this man next to me was the furthest thing from the enemy. I don’t know why I doubted him so much. Deep down, I guess I was still just scared he would reject me.

“I don’t know how they met, I can only guess.” I admitted with an unsure quirk of the mouth. “It was probably something to do with a mission. My dad was Special Ops.”

“Was? He’s not anymore?” It was a decent follow up question. I honestly don’t know why I bothered thinking so hard about my answers, knowing that he’d figure it out in seconds, anyway. Then again, I felt like I’d told this story a hundred times by now.

Usually the person listening didn’t care as much as he did, though. I was lucky to have him.

“No, he’s not.”

“Hotch said he trained you well… Is that what he’s talking about?”

Of course he’d talked to Hotch. That made sense. Hotch was his boss, and they were also probably the closest friends Spencer had. Hell, it was obvious Spencer saw him as a kind of father figure, so I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I still managed to be.

 _Speaking of, has Spencer ever talked about_ his _parents?_

I shoved the thought away, completely unable to handle the emotional overload I was sure would follow if we delved into all of that right now. I was already borderline too tired to handle this. But when I saw the confusion and concern in my sweet boyfriend’s eyes, I wanted to share it with him.

I wanted to share everything with him.

“Ever since I was a little girl my dad always taught me what to do if something horrible happened.” I had to chuckle a bit at the memories. They hadn’t felt so weird while they were happening. It wasn’t until much later, when I was in high school, really, that I realized most people at my school didn’t know common negotiation tactics or how to remain calm under intense interrogation.

“With the increase in mass tragedies, he might have gone a little… _overboard._ ” It was the understatement of the century, but one I felt I owed the man. After all, he might have saved our asses this time.

“So _that’s_ why you’re so good at shooting guns.”

I hoped he was joking, because my immediate response was to laugh. The movement burned in my gut, but I seriously couldn’t contain it. “Spencer, babe, being better than you doesn’t make me _good_ at it.”

I could see in his face that he wanted to do something to get back for the jab, but I had the immunity one receives after taking shot from an AR-15. Instead, he just messed with my hair before his hand made its retreat from my figure altogether.

“That must have been strange, being raised to view the world as a threat.”

“I guess.” Shrugging, I casually reminded him of a memory we’d shared not all that long ago. “I distinctly remember telling you something similar on our first date and you reminded me of all the good you get to see, too.”

He smiled at the memory of our first not-a-date, his hands making it a shocking thirty seconds before they were back on me. “What’s the good you saw?”

“People like you.” I responded without skipping a beat. “You walked right into that one, Dr. Reid.”

Scooting closer, his lips found mine in the dark. The kiss could never last quite long enough for me, my hand on his cheek trying to stop him from going too far. His bottom lip was worried between his teeth, his eyes flickering over my face before settling on a small admission.

“I was scared to meet your dad before, but now I’m terrified.”

“Don’t be.” I paused briefly before throwing caution to the wind. “You can’t meet him anymore.”

I’d never seen guilt hit someone so fast, his body backing even further away from me like he could reverse the damage already done by bringing up the memory.

“Oh. I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago now.” The memories of my father weren’t as raw as they used to be. It definitely wasn’t worth worrying Spencer, either. So I just ran my hands through his hair, enjoying his presence the best I could. Because he was here, with me, and that’s all that mattered right now.

“You know…” I giggled, “That’s what you get for signing up for a girl with _daddy issues_.”

If I thought the guilt had hit him fast, the mortification hit him even faster. I’m positive that if I hadn’t said the words with half a laugh, he might have cried from the embarrassment. “Oh, god,” he whined, “I’m such an _asshole._ ”

But then my laughter was even louder, my eyebrows lifted from the pain it caused but my mouth hung up in a goofy smile. “It’s okay! You didn’t know. And you were right anyway, so…”

Unable to bear the sight of me so happy and so far away, Spencer brought me back into his embrace. This time it was my lips that fought to find his. He turned towards me, his arm propping him up so that I wouldn’t have to crane my neck to kiss him.

After a moment of the heated exchange, my tongue begged for entrance. It had been so long since I’d really been alone with him and able to share my affection. I was starved for his touch, wishing that I could do so much more than kiss him.

But before we got too far, he held his face just far enough away that I was left straining to reach him before collapsing back against the pillow.

“I thought you said you would wait a few weeks. It hasn’t even been a few _hours._ ”

The proud tease was as adorable as it was infuriating, and I audibly groaned as I smacked my hands against the covers below me. “Ugh, fine!” I yelled, crossing my arms and turning away from him.

“You need your rest,” he instructed, all pride being replaced with tender affection once more, “Go to sleep, little girl.”

Noticing that he phrased the question to not include himself, and the fact that the sun had barely set, I narrowed my eyes. It was nowhere near Spencer’s bedtime. Hell, he’d had a coffee less than hour before. “What are _you_ going to do?”

“Watch you.”

I nodded a second before deciding how to express my thoughts on the subject. “That’s… vaguely creepy.”

But he didn’t care. He just smiled, his fingertips following the lines of my face while he stared at me with all the reverence and care in the world. “I don’t care.” When he passed over my lips, he smiled even bigger at the way I puckered them into a kiss. “I want to drown out all the bad memories with something beautiful.”

“You’re so cheesy.” The words were mumbled against his fingers that remained on my lips, now holding them down to try and prevent me from further ruining the moment. After he didn’t remove them, I poked my tongue out just a _millisecond_ too late. He’d seen it coming and was smart enough to avoid my wrath.

Placing one more kiss on my cheek before settling his head down on my shoulder, he happily sighed at the way we fit so much easier here. “It takes a dork to love a dork.”

And then there was quiet; the peaceful kind that was barely silence at all. Our steady breaths were slow, our hearts pitter-pattering at a normal speed. The sheets barely moved once we’d tangled ourselves enough to start to forget that we could exist apart from each other. There was only one thought on my mind, and no more reasons not to say it.

“I love you, Spencer Reid.”

With heartfelt enthusiasm, he replied, “I love you, too, little girl.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is trying to go back to her old life, which includes the life she led before she met Spencer.

“Don’t wear that tie, wear the other one.” 

Spencer turned to look at me curiously, his little grin the first signal that he saw right through me. “Why?” He asked, taking off the tie he’d only just finished putting on to swap it for the other one hanging in my closet.

It’d been a week since Spencer all but moved into my room, refusing to leave my side for even a second longer than necessary. Aside from the freshly healing bullet wounds, it had been one of the best weeks of my life.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying and failing to hide my smile. “I just wanted to watch you take it off.”

My boyfriend pointed an accusing finger at me as he approached the bed, using it to poke my nose before retreating. “You, my dear, are a troublemaker. I’m going to be late.”

It was hard to believe that life could resume so quickly for everyone else when it felt like I was still on my knees on the cold tile floor of the bank. I tried not to think about it, acutely aware of the terrible things that could happen when PTSD was left unchecked.

I wanted to think about nice things, instead. Like how cute my boyfriend was, acting like it was my fault he’d be late while he took his time tying his tie over and over again. He’d say it was because it wasn’t perfect, but we both knew he didn’t care about that. He just didn’t want to leave yet.

“If you’re going to be late Dr. Reid, it’s because _you_ refused to get out of bed until I gave you a kiss for every hour you’ll be gone today.” I reminded him, joy filling my chest at the small combination of a smile and a pout I received in response.

“You still owe me two.”

“Do I?” I responded, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him back to my place on the bed. “Then please, let me remedy that.”

Not wanting me to move any more than I already had, he quickly came down to place a chaste kiss on my lips. But I didn’t let it end there, holding onto the newly secured tie and tugging him closer.

Now it might be my fault, I thought, but I didn’t care. With one hand on the bed to steady himself and the other carefully caressing my cheek, he put all of his love into one little kiss. I felt like I was going to explode with the pent up desire that had accompanied being with him for so long without being able to show him how much I loved him in a physical way.

He insisted that he didn’t need sex, that it didn’t matter to him, but it mattered to me! I didn’t have a way with words like he did, and while he was content with curling up by my side, it left me wanting more.

The doctor kept telling me it would be soon, that the time will have passed quickly in hindsight. I didn’t understand half of what he said— he was just trying to get me to accept the narcotics in hopes that I wouldn’t end up back in his hospital.

I was doing it again. I was thinking about things I didn’t need to think about instead of the way Spencer bit down on my bottom lip when he paused to let me breathe. The smell of his cologne filled my lungs and I remembered how much I used to miss it. I’d stopped appreciating it when it was around me all the time.

It wasn’t until his phone rang that he left completely, tearing himself away from me like he wouldn’t be able to stop himself any other way.

“Hello?”

There were only a few reasons they would be calling him right now, and I didn’t like any of them.

“Oh… Alright.”

It was that exact tone, that terrified, pitiful grumble that told me what I needed to know. He had to go somewhere, and he wouldn’t be back today. He’d retreated from me, turning his back to me like I wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening just because I couldn’t see his face.

His voice was hushed. “Hotch, are you sure that I…”

The hopelessness hurt. I wanted him to go back to work; I knew he needed to. But it was so hard to let him go.

“Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

“How many more kisses do I owe you now?” I asked with a nervous laugh, fiddling with the sheets between my fingers.

“I don’t know.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like that voice.” I tried to keep my tone playful, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have to travel.”

The fact that he wasn’t looking at me made me more anxious than the fact he was now grabbing all the clothes he had in the closet and dropping them in the suitcase.

“Where to?”

Spencer paused, staring at the floor so that he could see me from his peripherals. He was torturing himself by forcing himself to see my reaction, but he wasn’t strong enough to look directly at me.

“Alaska.”

“Oh... wow.” I didn’t know how to respond, my body freezing as I tried to conceptualize just how far away that was. Far enough away that in maps of the United States, they had a separate area designated for it since it couldn’t fit.

It was too far, that’s all I knew.

“Hey, that’s fine! I can still call you.” My voice sounded foreign and the hopefulness was poorly performed. I wasn’t sure calling would be enough, but it apparently didn’t even matter.

“Not really. They don’t have service out there. Garcia is coming with us.” His packing got angrier, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from me.

“It’ll be fine, Spencer.”

His hands, unable to find any more clothing to grab, found purchase in his hair instead, running through them roughly. “What if something happens?” He asked as he finally turned to face me with a seriousness that was unbecoming.

“ _Nothing_ is going to happen. I have tons of friends who can help me. I’m just going to be sitting here on my ass all day watching bad TV.”

I gestured to the television that my friends had been nice enough to set up in my room, sighing as Spencer sulked in the other corner. It took a few waves of the hand, but eventually he dragged himself back to my side. Opening my arms to him, I took him in when his head dropped against my shoulder once more.

“I-I’m not ready to leave you yet.” The vulnerability shook in his voice, and I could feel the insistence in his grip denting my pillow.

“Well, too bad, superman.” I teased, pulling him away enough that I could show him my smile, hoping that it would be enough to calm his mounting fears. “You’ve got lives to save.”

He looked at me, his eyes still welling with tears despite the smile he now wore. He took my hand and heldit against his cheek. He closed his eyes; taking a deep breath, he mumbled, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me fall more in love with you every single day.”

I had to laugh, and I cursed him for it. It hurt so badly to laugh still, but the look on his face was worth it. No matter what, Spencer Reid had to be a romantic, and I loved him for it. It was so very much unlike me.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, old man.” I chastised him lightly, “You’re going to be late.”

He wasn’t done yet, though, that protective glimmer in his eyes returning with a vengeance. He held tighter to my hand and bit his lip.

“Promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything you aren’t supposed to. Please.”

It sounded like a beg, a desperation that I wasn’t used to. Up until now, it always felt like I was the one who was seeking more information and assurance. But now he sat before me, practically broken at the thought of not seeing me for a few days, pleading for me to take my own life seriously.

I hated the attention, but couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand; it would only make him worry more.

“I promise.”

He didn’t believe me, but he accepted my answer, anyway. Lunging forward, his lips crashed into mine without any reservations. I laughed into the kiss, tangling my hands in his hair so that he’d have to fix it again before he could leave me.

It was only funny until I remembered how long it might be until I see him again. I held onto him, deepening the kiss just to drag it out. He was also looking for an excuse, still refusing to part all the way when our lungs had nothing left.

“I love you… so much.” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine for a moment longer.

“I love you, too.”

I’d said it so many times in the past few weeks, but the words still felt new on my tongue. I wanted to say them more, to shower him in my affection, but I didn’t know how. Love was just another language he was fluent in, and I decidedly wasn’t. All I could do was wait for him to translate the thoughts to me whenever I got lost.

“I’m going to try to set up something so I can talk to you, okay? I can’t promise it’ll work but I’m going to try. You remember what I said about the last time I couldn’t reach you.”

Memories of papers scattered on the floor ran through my mind. I could practically feel his hand wrapped around my neck for the first time, holding my life in his hand because I’d trusted him to keep me safe. The vision of waking up in his bed, only to have him lower himself below the sheets, pressing kisses down my stomach.

Things had been so different then. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Those thoughts were suffocating and overwhelming and painful, and I shoved them back into the deepest recesses of my mind. It was too early to be emotional.

I took a deep breath, patting Spencer’s cheek with a soft palm before I summoned all the sarcasm I could in my voice. “I’ll always be with you in your heart,” I joked, smiling as he cringed at the sound.

“I mean it, little girl. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re in for it when I get back.”

Feigning shock and a gasp, I brought my hand to my chest just in time for him to step away from me. The absence of him was colder than it should have been. At least he appeared to be in better spirits, and I wanted to keep it going.

“Dr. Reid, has that _ever_ worked to make me _not_ do something?”

Spencer shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing the rest of his things with more pep in his step. The closer he got to the door, the harder my heart beat. It was deafening and mind numbing in its volume.

Was this how love was supposed to feel? Or had I just grown so spoiled and accustomed to him being here, that I was being entirely selfish? I would no doubt have days to think about it.

He returned to me one more time, running his hand gently through my hair and granting me one more soft, serene kiss in the pale morning light.

“Take care of yourself.” He whispered, the begging bleeding back into his voice. “For me.”

“I will.” I promised before closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him leave. I still heard him hesitate at the door, and I felt his eyes linger on me for a few seconds longer. But then the door clicked shut, and I was alone again.

—

Nine days. I’d been gone for _nine days_. It might as well have been a lifetime, because that’s exactly what it felt like. Even worse, I was only able to call (y/n) a whopping three times, each one shorter than the last. We’d only talked for a total of 14 minutes and 29 seconds. And considering that nine days is 12960 minutes, that’s a pretty abysmal fraction.

But it didn’t matter, because as soon as that stupid jet landed in Virginia, I was on my way back to her. Thankfully it was still a normal hour and the sun was still out, albeit quickly setting.

She wasn’t answering my calls, and I tried not to think too much of it. During our last call, she’d told me that she started a new medication that made her sleepy. In fact, our conversation had been so short in part because she fell asleep halfway through the call.

I didn’t mind though, listening to the soft sound of her breathing until the signal went dead again. I’d played the audio over and over again in my head to help me sleep that night, knowing that she was hours away but still dreaming with me.

I was so ready to see her again, that I’d barely knocked on her door before the keys were already in the knob. I didn’t want to wait, I didn’t want to spend another second longer than necessary before I could see her.

But before I could turn the handle, the door swung open and away from my hand.

There were a few people I’d expected to see; (y/n), her roommate, or possibly one of the other female friends the girls had mentioned that I’d yet to see. Unfortunately, it was the one face that hadn’t ever crossed my mind that appeared.

On the other side of the threshold was the man I’d only seen in pictures. To be more specific, one picture, months ago, sent to me from (y/n)’s phone in an attempt to keep her from answering my call.

I recognized him immediately, but realized I’d never actually heard his name.

We stood there for a long time, staring at the other with the utmost hostility in our eyes and postures. I hated the fact that I felt the need to compete with him, but found myself acting out of instinct. I just hoped that he wasn’t as smart or perceptive as her, and wouldn’t notice the insecurity and jealousy that immediately emerged. 

“So you must be the cop.” He drawled, leaning against the doorframe to prevent my entry. The action alone pissed me off, but I bit my tongue in the hopes I could deescalate the situation, despite how much I didn’t want to. There were many things I wanted to say to him, but only a few words came out.

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, she said you’d say that.” He chuckled, rubbing his chin as he recalled a memory of her. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That makes sense. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering it’s not my job.” I stated matter-of-factly, trying to remind myself that the two of them were friends. She’d known him for a long time, and he probably felt just as possessive of her as I did.

The only difference was that I had a reason to believe she was mine.

“Let me guess, your sense of humor is her favorite trait.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue. Normally I’d say that was my role, but right now all that I had to spit back was venom.

Retrieving my key from the door, I contemplated barreling past him to get to her quicker, but realized he was probably hoping to provoke that exact kind of reaction.

“You’re funny.” My face steeled and my fists clenched in my pockets, I peered around his head to the empty hallway behind him. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping.” That stupid smirk was back, his eyes trailing after my every movement, waiting for me to snap. When I didn’t, he escalated his antics further.

“I was about to go join her.” He said, licking his lips and standing up in an attempt to match my height.

But it wasn’t size or age that distinguished the two of us. It was our priorities. Because while he was here, trying to prove himself to me, all I could see was a young boy standing in the way of me seeing her again.

“No need. I’m here now.” I took a step forward, unsurprised to find that he didn’t immediately move out of my way.

He narrowed his eyes, grasping at straws to try and prolong this interaction. I couldn’t understand why, really. He couldn’t honestly believe I’d try to start a fight with him or leave, could he?

“Does she know you were planning on coming by?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I responded with a bored tone, staring him down until I saw his stance falter. It wouldn’t take much longer of this standoff for him to finally recede far enough into the apartment that I could just ignore him.

“Just wondering.” He mumbled, finally taking a step backwards and to the side so that I could enter. He shut the door behind me, but clearly wasn’t done with the conversation.

“Figured she wouldn’t have asked me to come spend the night with her if she knew you were coming. So she must not have expected for you to show up.”

I turned around to face him, knowing that I was playing into his games but unable to resist the temptation.

“She told me you got jealous last time. I would hate for you two to fight again if you found us in bed together. That would be so _upsetting_ for her.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. No miscommunication. No worries at all.” It was times like these that I was grateful for my training, because it was the only thing keeping me from lunging at the boy and slamming him against the wall. I knew he could see it in my eyes.

He clearly had an idea of me in his head, one that was honestly probably pretty accurate. He wanted me to lose control and show that side of me, to prove that he was the better man. But he wasn’t. He’d had several years with her now to prove himself, and she’d still chosen me.

She chose me— that’s all I needed to remember.

“What if I want to stay?” He teased.

“We’ll let her decide.”

That was the first thing I’d said that struck a nerve in him. He resumed his previous stance with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest. “You’re a bit full of yourself for a dude who’s never here.” He spat, puffing his chest. The longer the bravado continued, the less intimidating it became. “You barely even know her.”

I was transported back to when (y/n) and I first started dating, when Morgan had accused me of the very same thing over lunch. My heart wrenched in my chest, because so much of me knew that it was still true.

She’d only just started to share information with me about her past, and still she spoke in vague generalities and half-thoughts. There was so much she hid from me, and I just… let her. I let her hide from me because I was scared that if I pressed her, she would leave.

At least, that’s what I’d thought. But each time someone pointed out how little I knew her, I was forced to consider the possibility that she was keeping me away for a deeper reason.

“I know all the parts of her that she doesn’t want to show you.” He taunted, sensing my anxieties that were clearly written across my face.

“Are you done? I’d like to go see her now.”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head. But I only got a few steps before I heard his voice again, this time louder and angrier.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing that I’m here, in bed with your girlfriend while you’re on the opposite side of the country, not even answering her calls?” He remained rooted in his position at the end of the hall.

I lost the battle of keeping my eyes on her door, ripping them away so that I could turn to face him. My breathing got heavy and my hands finally left my pockets. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” I said, my voice falling quieter instead of growing, “You want to know why?”

The grimace on his face was the only answer I needed. I brought a finger to my own chest, not trusting myself to touch him. I barely knew this guy, and I wasn’t about to start a fight with one of (y/n)’s oldest friends to prove my manhood, especially if that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not worried because I trust her.” I practically whispered to him, “And even if I had some reason not to, I’m not intimidated by _**you**_.”

A fire appeared in his eyes, the desire to bite back stifled by the knowledge that there was nothing he could say to make me doubt her. He’d already tried and failed every time so far.

“I don’t care what parts of her you _think_ I haven’t seen. Because I get to have the parts of her you wish you could. And she gave them to me willingly and without regret. Over and over again.”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I was thankfully cut off by the hoarse, familiar voice in the backroom.

“Spencer?” She called, groggy yet excited. There was no way she could hear me from the room, which told me that she’d probably just woken up to my texts and hoped I was here. It told us both that when she woke up, the first person she thought to call was me.

“Yeah.” I said, a soft, genuine smile crossing my cheeks at the thought of her. “Like I said… I’m not worried.”

He didn’t follow me then, staying in the hallway to stew in his anger over the fact that this hadn’t gone at all how he’d planned. But I couldn’t think about him any longer, because as soon as I turned into her room, my heart melted.

She was sprawled out on her bed, hugging a body pillow like her life depended on it. Her hair was a beautiful disaster across her pillow, and the blanket had fallen far enough to see that she was swamped in the same Caltech sweatshirt she wore every time I was gone.

“Hey little girl.”

She slowly shimmied her way up the pillows, clearly surprised at my appearance despite having called me in. With half shut eyes, she spoke through a yawn, “What’re you doing here? You look like you haven’t slept in a week!”

“I missed you.” I admitted quietly, finally bridging the gap between us and climbing onto her bed on top of the covers. I couldn’t even bother taking off my blazer or my shoes; I needed to be close to her now, without any other unnecessary delay.

Despite curling up against me immediately, she still found a way to whine. “You better not have skipped out on anything for me. We know I’m not doing anything worthwhile in here.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, my hands holding her against me so that I could breathe in the familiar scent of her hair and perfume. “I strongly disagree.” I sighed, happy to hear her hum and giggle at the way my breath tickled her face.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but she tilted her head away from me to see her friend. I stayed where I was, not wanting to take my eyes off of her again for as long as I didn’t have to.

“I’m gonna head out. Let me know if you need me again.” He said, his voice full of repressed anger and sadness that I understood but didn’t particularly care about right now.

“Thanks for coming! I’ll probably see you next week; I’ll text you!” She chirped, waving to the man who’d already left.

His absence eased away the last remaining bit of tension in my shoulders, allowing me to bury myself in her neck while she continued to laugh. I heard the soft sounds of the tv for the first time and mumbled into her skin.

“What are you watching?”

“Just a sitcom. You wouldn’t be interested.”

She sounded... defensive, if not a little ashamed for her choice in shows. I had to laugh, realizing that she was still unaware of the shows my mom and I used to watch when I was a kid. The asinine, cheesy soap operas that taught me the dorky, awkward way to love that she constantly mocked me for.

I would save that piece of information for later, though, and instead, I chose to show her my own interest in the things she loved, or in the very least found comforting. “What’s it about?”

Apparently, it was the right question to ask. Over the course of the next thirty minutes she tried to condense the entire nine season series of _The Office_ into one barely coherent rant. Eventually, she realized that I wasn’t following along as closely as she’d hoped, and just decided to start the show over.

I didn’t mind. She chastised me a few times for not paying close enough attention after catching me monitoring her reactions more than the show itself. But eventually she fell asleep on my chest, still murmuring about Jim and Pam until the words were just gibberish.

Without her commentary, I was forced to pay attention so that when she undoubtedly woke up and quizzed me, I wouldn’t just be repeating words I’d heard in the background. Somewhat unsurprisingly, I found myself swept up in the romantic storyline of her two favorite characters. So caught up, in fact, that when she woke up, it took me a moment to notice.

“What did I miss?” She grumbled, trying to force her eyes open while she turned to see the tv that displayed the immediate results of a very poorly timed love confession. “Oh, Casino Night.” Her voice was nostalgic and a bit solemn while she spoke. “This is one of my favorite episodes.”

“Why? It’s so sad.”

Without looking up at me, she pondered the question. It was obvious she’d never really thought to question why she was drawn to it. Her answer didn’t provide any comfort or explanation.

“I guess I relate to it. Loving someone like that.” She shrugged before turning back to rest her head against me. She’d said it so easily, like it wasn’t something jarring for me to hear. I realized then that she’d never told me about her past relationships. In fact, I didn’t even know if any existed.

She sensed the anxieties that were building and brought a hand to my cheek to reroute my gaze to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You… You never really talk to me about your life.” My voice was so pathetic, the pout on my lips so childish in its sadness. Because although I told myself I was only upset she hadn’t told me about it, another part of me was also jealous at the idea that anyone else ever got to hold her.

And what a stupid thought that was, to be jealous of men who didn’t get to keep her. I should have been hoping that she had people who loved her and held her and made her happy, not wishing none had existed.

“What are you talking about? We talk about it all the time.” She chuckled, clearly unaware of my inner debate and turmoil.

“I mean your life before me.” I clarified, taking her hand into mine and watching as she carefully wound our fingers together.

“Oh, well… Who cares? It’s in the past.”

She was using that voice that warned me that she was about to try and change the subject. She hadn’t meant to get this conversation started, and now it was quickly getting away from her. But I wasn’t ready to drop it—especially now that I was aware of a huge, life altering event that she’d managed to keep hidden until now.

“I care. If it’s important to you, it matters to me.” It didn’t seem to reassure her, a lopsided smile covering her cheeks before she tried to maneuver away from the topic again.

“What time is it? Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

I held up the small notepad that rested on her nightstand, displaying the several timestamps that I could tell were meant to signal the last time she’d taken painkillers. “I was waiting so I could offer you medicine.”

“Ugh, yes please.” She groaned, moving herself off me so that I could grab the bottles beside her bed.

But there was something I’d noticed before, which only became more obvious once I picked them up. I looked past the orange plastic, my mind straining to count the number of pills inside. The date didn’t match the amount.

“Did you fill the narcotics?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is that why he was here?”

“No.” She responded swiftly, shaking her head and rubbing her temples.

The mention of him brought out feelings that I’d almost forgotten, and with those feelings came stupid worries and questions. “...Why _was_ he here?” I mumbled, turning the pill bottles in my hand like I didn’t already have them memorized.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, poking her tongue out at me. It worked to turn my pout into an awkward half-smile, but I was still sulking.

“Would he have really stayed in the bed with you?”

“What? No!” She shouted, sitting up fast enough that she winced, her hand grabbing her stomach but still talking through clenched teeth. “Did he say that?!”

Her reaction alone made me laugh, easing the tension and reminding me it was stupid to worry about it in the first place. “He might have implied it.” My hands started to sort through her tangled hair, gently arranging it back to its rightful place.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking dick.” She grumbled, wiping her face to try and get rid of the sudden anger.

Meanwhile, I was once again distracted. It was obvious in the way she struggled to keep her eyes open and preventing her hands from turning to fists. She was in way too much pain for my comfort, and it was partially my fault for getting her riled up over something so silly.

But she hadn’t told me she filled the narcotics, and she didn’t tell me where they were. I needed to respect that, if only because I was scared that it might make her doubt me. When she turned to look me in the eyes, I held her cheek that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me where they are. I understand.” 

“No, it’s fine. I trust you, Spencer. It’s…” The troubled look shifted to a shaky smile. “They’re in my bedside table. I don’t think I can get them myself.”

I tried not to look excited by the reveal in case she misinterpreted my happiness. It wasn’t the drugs I cared about – it was the fact she trusted me with the fact that they existed. That was enough to carry me through any cravings that popped up. They were few, but like always, they were there.

I funneled those feelings into my caretaking, grabbing her a water bottle and helping her ease back down onto the pillow after she’d down the pills. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, listening to soft sound of the theme song in the background.

Just as I shifted my focus back to the TV, she brought me back to her with a tiny whisper.

“You have nothing to be jealous of.”

I looked down to see she still had closed eyes, now accompanied with a genuine smile. I laughed at the sight, and her eyelids fluttered open at the sound. She narrowed her eyes into a suspicious glare.

“Yeah, I... may or may not have said that.” I admitted, wiggling my fingers between hers.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Very cocky, Dr. Reid.” She chastised, squeezing my hand tighter and bringing it up to her chest. I could feel her heart beating softly against us, her chest slowly rising and falling as she started to try to drift off again.

“What else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing that matters. Let’s go to sleep.”

It was a suggestion that didn’t need to be made, because she was basically already asleep by the time she replied, “Okay. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”

— _That weekend_ —

The best part of the week was waiting for the chance to spend two uninterrupted days with (y/n). But this time it was different; when I left her house this morning, she told me she wanted some time to herself.

I tried to ignore the fifty alarm bells that rang in my head, convincing myself that she just needed a break from entertaining me. We all needed alone time sometimes, right?

No, that was a lie. I didn’t ever need a break from her, and it worried me that she needed one from me. Was I stressing her out? Were there more secrets she was keeping from me? It had to be something heavy if she didn’t want me to know, but that’s exactly the time she would need me most, right?

It was times like this when I wished that I had more experience with relationships; I was panicking and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I didn’t want to. I was scared that they might tell me the wrong thing, or the right thing. I was worried they might talk some sense into me and tell me that waiting outside my girlfriend’s apartment was creepy, stalkerish behavior.

I knew it was. I tried to justify it with a present that I was going to leave on her doorstep and leave. But when I got to her place, a dread filled me. I shouldn’t have come. She deserved her privacy and my trust. She’d earned it, and it wasn’t right for me to doubt her.

So, I turned my car back on and prepared to leave. But before I could, I saw her. Alone.

We’d talked about it before, and she’d promised me she wouldn’t go anywhere alone. The risks were too high – not just that she might fall or get stranded, but that something could go seriously wrong. Her stitches could tear, or she could overexert herself. She could get into a car crash and no one would know about her already existing internal damage.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere alone. She’d _promised_ me. But there she was, climbing into her car after suspiciously glancing around. Her car left so quickly, I barely had time to think about the ethics of following her. After a few seconds of wrestling with myself, I decided to just do it and worry about the consequences later.

I’d admit it to her later, when she was safe and sound. Maybe it would be good, too, to see that she was fine without me. I just wished she’d told me so I could come to her aid if she needed me to.

After nearly twenty minutes of driving, I still had no idea where she was going. I was a little surprised she hadn’t noticed me yet, which just goes to show she probably shouldn’t have been driving.

Actually, was she on narcotics?

My mind was spinning, my hands shaking when she finally pulled into a small, unfamiliar cemetery parking lot off the side of the road.

For all her paranoia leading up to this point, she didn’t check the other cars in the lot when she got out. Instead, she put her hand on her stomach and slowly made her way through the gate, hobbling off into the field.

And then I felt terrible for so many reasons. I selfishly felt awful that she didn’t want to bring me here. It hurt that I was violating her trust like this, but it hurt worse to know she was going through it alone.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm down the emotional disaster of my mind. I didn’t need to follow her, I thought. She would come back in a little while, and I could watch her get back in her car. She would make it home, and I could call her and ask her how her day was. Maybe she’d even tell me herself.

God, I was such an idiot. I shouldn’t have come, but now I was here, and I couldn’t leave, either. This was the time she was most likely to be in danger, since the cemetery was relatively empty.

Just as that thought occurred to me, another car pulled in. it wouldn’t have mattered much to me, but the thing that followed caught my attention.

The woman inside the car climbed out and made a beeline to (y/n)’s car, peering into the windows and taking photos of the license plate. At first, I did nothing, trying to keep track of everything that was happening, noting the unfamiliar woman’s license plate number in turn.

But then she took off in the same direction my girlfriend had left in, and I realized that I couldn’t just wait here. This woman clearly knew her, and from the looks of it, it was not going to be a friendly encounter. 

_This is why_ , I thought. _This is why I made her promise_.

I couldn’t just run out after her yet, so I followed as closely as I could without being clearly visible, relying on sounds, instead. But what I heard was somehow even more distressing than when I could see.

“What are you doing here?! You aren’t allowed to be here!” A scratchy, unfamiliar voice rang through the air. Even if I didn’t already know, her tone alone told me that a fight was about to follow.

I bit down on my tongue, trusting that (y/n) could handle herself. She’d done it before me, and she could do it now. The only thing worse than revealing my presence would be doing it while also discrediting her.

“Mrs. Loughton! I can explain!”

At least I finally had a name for the face, but that was about as far as my thoughts went before they turned to red. Because the only thing I could hear after that was the sound of skin against skin, and the gentle thud of someone hitting the ground.

“Get the hell out of here, you bitch!” The woman screeched, and by the time I came into view, I saw my girlfriend on her hands and knees, holding the very visible red mark on her face. Neither of them saw me, too caught up in each other to notice.

It was the panic on her face, the way she lifted both hands to cover her head when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair that broke my silence. 

“ **Hey!** Get away from her!” I shouted, running over to the two women. Mrs. Loughton released (y/n)’s hair, causing her to drop back onto her hands and knees while she looked up at me with an angry, frazzled stare.

“Spencer?!”

“Who the hell are you?” The woman spat, redirecting her anger towards me. I much preferred it this way.

“I’m a law enforcement agent, and you just assaulted someone.”

“Assault? Ha!” She laughed, talking over me as if she’d heard the speech a million times before. I got the impression this wasn’t the first time the two have had a showdown. “That’s funny, considering.”

“Spencer, please leave.” The fear overtook any other emotion, and the tears welled so quickly in her eyes it hurt my chest. I couldn’t leave. There was no way I could leave her on her knees in front of this woman. 

“Let me guess, are you one of her dad’s friends?” She sneered, but all I could hear was (y/n) continuing to plead.

“Spencer. **Go away.** ”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I couldn’t breathe, my chest heaving with unbridled rage, confusion, and something else I couldn’t even place.

“Oh I bet you are one of his friends. Always protecting _her_. You’re all a bunch of pathetic, power-hungry lowlifes.”

(Y/n) stood up now, neither of us paying any attention to the raving woman while I tried to help her up. “Please, I want to leave.” She pleaded, grabbing my hand so tightly that it trembled.

“Are you a murderer, too?”

“ _What_ are you talking about?!” I snapped, my arms wrapping possessively around (y/n) like I could shield her from everything that was happening. But I couldn’t, and I heard her soft sobs while she pulled on my shirt, now wet with her tears.

“That stupid, selfish little bitch knows exactly what she did, and she knows that she’s not allowed anywhere **near** here!” Her face was red, her arms waving and tears sprouting in her eyes while she ran out of breath. Then, deathly quiet, she pursed her lips and tried to bite her tongue. But she couldn’t, the words bursting through when she saw the way I held (y/n).

“If you really are a law enforcement agent, then get her the fuck out of here! She’s not allowed on this property!”

“She hasn’t **done** anything!”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she let me know swiftly and with full force.

“She’s the reason my son is dead!” She shrieked, stepping towards me with an accusing finger in my face. “It was her friends, her drugs, her horrible decisions and now my baby is gone!”

I hated this part. Because as much as I loved (y/n), it was impossible not to hear the absolute devastation in this woman’s voice. And the longer she talked, the more I understood what was happening. Not enough to argue back, but enough to feel sympathy for them both.

More than anything, I wanted to protect (y/n), but I didn’t know how. I held her tighter, trying to show her that she was safe. I’m afraid it had the opposite effect, and she started to fight my embrace.

“It should have been _**her**_! She should follow in her father’s footsteps and do the world a favor and...” She cut herself off, knowing the weight of her words and contemplating them a moment longer before making her decision. “And just _**fucking disappear**_!”

The shock of it all caused my arms to loosen – just barely. It was enough, though, and before I knew it (y/n) had burst from my arms, taking off at full speed through the headstones.

“(Y/n)!” I choked, going to run after her, but I was stopped one final time.

“Yeah, get the hell out of here.” The woman behind me softly sobbed, trembling as the fight left her. “Go protect her like you always do. They always do.”

I couldn’t stay on the thought; I’d have to come back to it later, because there were more pressing concerns for me than a stranger who’d just hurt the woman I loved. So I turned around and booked it after her just as she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the cover of the woods around the cemetery.

Naturally, she couldn’t stay on the level, manicured grass. My heart was pounding not just at the energy exerted to follow her, but from all the different things that could go wrong. She could fall, she could run into something, she could get lost.

But luckily, even the adrenaline couldn’t stop the pain in her stomach, and she’d barely gotten anywhere before I caught up to her. I loosely caught her wrist, pulling her gently back to me before she nearly collapsed in my arms.

“(Y/n), where do you think you’re going? You can’t be running like this! Especially not here; it’s way too dangerous!” I said through my labored breaths. Then we stopped, and she protested at my touch.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked calmer now, lifting her back onto her feet. “Did she hurt you?” When I went to lift her shirt to inspect her wound, she brought her hand down in a hard slap.

“Stop, Spencer! Just fucking stop! Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”

The venom dripped from her tongue and burned my skin, my hands jumping back away from her as I took a step back. All the negative emotions that I’d just watched her go through were growing and morphing into a painful anger, and it was all aimed at me.

I deserved it.

“Why the fuck are you even here?! I told you I wanted to be alone today, a-and now you’re what, y-you’re following me?!”

I wished I could just shut up, but the words flowed out of me like I had any right to be angry with her over a promise that didn’t even seem to matter anymore. “And it’s a good thing I did. That woman could have seriously hurt you!”

“Who **cares**!”

“I do!” My voice strained at the volume I used to match hers. Our angry shouting disrupted the wildlife and broke through the sounds of cars traveling on the highway on the other side of the trees. “You might not care about what happens to you, (y/n), but it matters to me!”

“Why the fuck are you yelling at me?!” And then the sniffles turned to outright sobs, her whole body shaking, her hands cradling her face while she struggled under the weight of everything that had happened so quickly.

I shouldn’t have come here, but I was glad I had. I wished none of this had happened. I just wanted to hold her, but she stepped away when I got closer, defensively covering her head. My heart shattered at the thought of her being scared of me.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I said genuinely, my voice still breaking, but now at an acceptable volume. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling, I-I just… I got scared. I thought you were going to get hurt again and I—“

“Sometimes I’m going to get hurt, Spencer. I can’t put my life on hold for your comfort. I’m only twenty years old. I’m not ready to be a housewife waiting at home for you!” She was quick, stumbling over her words and waving her arms between us in the hopes it would force me to keep my distance.

I didn’t want to hurt her, I never wanted that. And right now, it was very obvious that’s exactly what I was doing. “Of course. I want you to have a life, but you…”

Her hand was back on her stomach, and the action caused a sudden panic that overwhelmed the logic and sense. “You were shot!” I cried, “You almost died in my arms! I thought I was going to lose you, _**forever**_.”

She couldn’t reply yet, her lungs too busy trying to take in hungry breaths without irritating the hardly healed skin.

I clenched my eyes shut, unable to look at it any longer. “It’s been barely a month, (y/n). A-And you’re already sneaking around behind my back and putting yourself in danger and I don’t know how I’m supposed to just turn a blind eye to that.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She panted; the words hardly audible. Her skin was damp with sweat from the pain that was obviously written all over her.

This time, when I stepped closer, she couldn’t move away. I didn’t hold her yet, opting instead to place one hand on her hip and the other on the side of her face. She sighed, resting her head against my hand. She said she didn’t want to talk to me, but the way she closed her eyes and her heartrate immediately calmed down with the simplest touch told me that she wanted nothing more than for me to pick her up and take her home.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from whatever the hell just happened out there, but you don’t have to do that.” I whispered, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re just going to let it go?” I couldn’t decide what was more simultaneously heartbreaking and adorable, her pauses to sniffle, or the way she pouted as she spoke. “You aren’t going to ask me every night until you get an answer?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again, then yes. I’ll let it go.” I reassured her. She took the answer with an immense amount of relief, leaning forward to rest all of her body weight against me. I tried to stop her from falling too far or too hard, hoping to ease the pain that was already wrecking her.

But she didn’t even seem to notice, rubbing her face against my shirt and further soaking it with tears. I just wanted her to be okay, and I wished I could do it faster. For now, all I could do was pet the back of her head, rocking just a bit to the side in a soothing manner.

We stayed like that for a long time, and I occasionally pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft apologies to her and telling her that I loved her, no matter what. Eventually, she responded, her voice filled with guilt and shame again.

“I was going to tell you eventually.”

“I believe you.” I immediately responded, pulling her back to look at me to know that I was telling her the truth. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She gave the tiniest, saddest nod back.

“I would never try to hurt you.” I promised, earning a slanted smile. I mirrored it back to her, which made her laugh.

The sounds of the highway paired with the rustling of the leaves, and the two of us shared a quiet moment of understanding. Because I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I was glad I was there, and she felt very much the same.

“I’d like to go home, please.”

“Okay.” I agreed, taking her hand and maneuvering the woods that didn’t seem nearly as dangerous when her hand was in mine. “Let’s go home.”

— _A few days later_ —

“Hotch, I need to ask you for a favor.”

The man didn’t even look up from his desk, and I could tell from his posture that he wasn’t in the mood for the conversation he expected to follow. I couldn’t blame him; I hadn’t been the easiest employee to have for the past couple of weeks.

“Reid, we’ve talked about this. You either have to come back completely or—“

“No, sorry, this… isn’t about that.” I corrected, trying to ease the tension before it got any worse. Unfortunately, he still seemed combative, although there was now a guilt mixed in the frustration.

“I need to talk to you about (y/n)’s father.” I clarified, my voice breaking mid-sentence. I cleared my throat, trying to make eye contact despite the nerves gnawing at the little self-esteem I had.

But after a brief moment of thought, Hotch waved me forward, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He shoved the papers to the side and I wondered what it was he was working so hard on. I had a feeling it had to do with her, but I wasn’t going to ask.

“Does she know you’re asking me about this?”

It was the first question, and although I fully expected him to ask it, I still choked on an answer. He sighed deeply, his hands folding on his desk. He wasn’t able to look at me, either.

“Reid…”

“I-I’m really worried about her.” I needed him to hear the desperation in my voice, to feel just how scared I really was. I didn’t want to come running to him for every little thing involving her — he’d already done so much for her just fending off the prosecutors.

I knew we were both tired, but I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his tone when he talked about her that she meant something to him, too. Even if it wasn’t nearly as much, he’d known her when she was a kid.

Well, I guess to Hotch, she still was. I hated to exploit that knowledge, but I needed answers now. Before something else went horribly wrong. So I broke into a rant, my hands running through my hair and down my legs as I tried to prevent them from turning to fists at the memory.

“The other day she did something and she got into a physical altercation with another woman a-and she told (y/n) that she should follow her father’s footsteps and…” The word caught in my throat. He narrowed his eyes, and I suspected he already knew what I was about to say.

“Disappear.”

Across from the desk, he tensed, bowing his head to look at the files lining the surface in front of him. Every single one of them contained a plethora of information about someone’s family. Someone’s everything.

“What did she mean, Hotch?”

“Reid, the information in that file is not only classified, it’s extremely personal. I’m sure she doesn’t know all the details herself. I think it’s best for you to hear it from her.” He explained it so robotically, I could tell he didn’t want to be saying it. The way his jaw clenched told me that there was a lot he wished he could discuss about whatever the hell happened.

It must be a lonely way to live, I thought. And then I thought of her, carrying the weight of uncertainty on top of whatever Hotch held. She was strong, but she was young. She had been even younger then, and she wouldn’t have had the one man who’d taught her to survive to teach her how to handle what came next.

I wrung my hands together. I didn’t mean to be manipulative, but tears stung at my eyes. They were real, and they were persuasive.

“I just need to know that she’s safe.” I begged. “But your reaction isn’t telling me that at all. In fact, it’s telling me the exact opposite.”

Now that I’d started, the words wouldn’t stop.

“If my girlfriend is in danger, I need to know. It’s not like I care about the mission or whatever her father was wrapped up in — I-I just want to know what happened to him. This woman knew, so apparently it’s not that classified!”

My voice grew in volume, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I could feel his face morph into a scowl even as I clenched my eyes tightly shut. There was so much I hated about this, but nothing more than knowing that despite everything I’ve done, I still couldn’t reach out to her and help her when she needed me.

I was still failing her, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Reid, stop.”

Hotch must have been able to read my mind, because something inside of him also snapped, the tension releasing from his shoulders and his jaw. I wondered if it was because he trusted me not to give it away, or if it was because he trusted her.

Either way, he spoke, his voice low and hushed.

“I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you has never been confirmed, and should not be shared outside of this room. Even with her.”

Sitting up with a straight back and a heavy swallow, I nodded.

“I understand.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

When I opened the front door, I realized that I had returned to an empty home. I wasn’t sure which was weirder; the realization that the house was empty, or the fact that I was referring to her apartment as my home. It certainly had started to feel that way.

It never stopped being a shock that I would find a home in someone so quickly and with such little self-awareness. I’d certainly never suspected that the house we’d be in would also be shared with several other people, all of whom were significantly younger than me and shared almost no similarities with me beyond our love for (y/n).

And even if it wasn’t the weirder of the two realizations, the fact that she wasn’t there was definitely the more troubling one. I tried to gather at least a little evidence before I called her; I wasn’t exactly excited about being blindsided again. Judging by the red solo cups that were scattered in the kitchen, I had an idea of how her friends had spent the night. The fact that no one was here led me to another conclusion that I desperately hoped was inaccurate.

Her phone rang four times before she picked up, which was strange in itself. When she did pick up, she sounded like I expected her to. Tired. Groggy.

“Hello?”

“Hey little girl, where are you?” I hoped she couldn’t hear the fumbling of my keys in my pocket, or any other sign of just how anxious I’d gotten in the last three minutes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Spencer, I forgot I was supposed to see you today.” She mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic if not a little confused.

“You… forgot?” I repeated, quickly making my way over to the calendar hung on a bulletin board outside the kitchen, noting the nothingness over both the current and following week.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away with school.”

She was lying. I couldn’t be for sure about what, but it was obvious. If she was really having that much trouble with classes, she would have told me. We’d gotten past the whole insecurity over me thinking she was stupid thing a long time ago, and she knew I would always let her learn it on her own if she didn’t want my help.

“… What are you not telling me?” I tried to make the words playful, although my hand was now nervously patting the side of my hip at an alarming rate.

“Nothing! I just got distracted. I’m… a little busy today so we should just meet up again next weekend.”

“A week?” I knew she was probably getting tired of me parroting her words, but that just seemed like a ludicrous amount of time. Usually, we went barely a day or two without seeing each other when I was in the city, cherishing the time together when I wasn’t called away to attend to crimes halfway across the country. 

“What’s going on?” My voice was quickly falling into that register that warned her I was about to start profiling her, whether I wanted to or not. And unfortunately, she chose the worst possible reaction to that warning, further tipping me off to the fact that something wasn’t quite right.

“Spencer, stop being weird.”

But I wasn’t. I knew that I could be weird; it’s kind of my thing. If you looked up weird in the dictionary, you wouldn’t find my name, but you’d definitely find a description that perfectly characterized my personality.

“You’re the one being weird. Turn on your camera.” 

“I can’t. It’s dark in here.” She shot back her answer so quickly, I knew that she had already anticipated the request.

“Then move.” I ordered more than suggested. She understandably didn’t take kindly to my reaction, but I know she also knew why I was doing it. The excuses she was giving weren’t even well thought out.

“What is this? An interrogation?” She scoffed, “Do you think I’m cheating on you with barely dissolved stitches in my intestines?”

I took a deep breath, sitting down at the kitchen table still sticky with leftover sugary liquor and turned the phone onto speaker. “Turn it on.” This time, my voice broke with the order. As much as that didn’t make it sound authoritative, it did make her feel guilty.

As the screen lit up, it all made sense in the worst possible way. She was forcing a fake smile, her other hand resting against her face in a failed attempt to draw attention away from the the mottled skin of her left eye.

“I’m not cheating on you. Happy?” The words were sharp on her tongue, an anger in her features paired well with the understanding that I wasn’t wrong to be worried. I honestly think that was what bothered her the most – that she wanted it to be nothing, for me to be overreacting, but knew that it was a little more serious that she let on. 

“I’m definitely not happy. What happened?” I was already at the door by the time the sentence ended… She shut off her camera just as quickly, hearing the commotion from my side. “Where are you? I’m coming right now.”

She sighed, and I could see it clearly despite the fact that she wasn’t on my screen anymore. “I don’t want you to come here. Spencer, I’m fine.”

I might have believed her. I might have honestly given her the benefit of the doubt – let her lie to me a little, and just accept that a black eye wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Eventually, she would tell me how she got it, so I wouldn’t need to worry about it.

But it became very obvious very quickly that it was _not_ just a black eye.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)?” A third voice announced in the background, accompanied by the distinct sound of an alarm sounding in the distance.

“… Are you in a hospital?!”

“For fucks sake. I hate dating a profiler.” She grumbled, implicitly admitting that my conclusion was right. She wouldn’t let me have another word, speedily slurring her goodbye. “I have to go, Spencer. I’ll call you later. Love you!”

—

Anyone who has spent a long time in inpatient knows that nosy nurses are both the best and worst kind of people to be assigned to your stay. They were the best because they always had the best gossip and would spend their precious little free time sharing stories about their lives that were always more entertaining than whatever poorly budgeted gameshow was on the old, staticky television.

They were the worst because one wrong move meant that you were the subject of gossip. And boy, were they good at getting it out of you.

“Trouble in paradise?” She sweetly hummed as she pushed my bed down the hall.

I wanted to tell her that there was trouble, and that it was through no fault of my own. If the other people in the hospital didn’t have the _audacity_ to be sick at the same time that I needed a CT scan, then I wouldn’t have even still been here. I could have been back at home, where… well, I guess Spencer would have figured it out either way.

“Yeah, I guess.” I sadly admitted, playing with the string of my gown. “He’s just a worrywart.”

The woman had that glimmer in her eye, the kind that came from years of seeing the same stories over and over again. Although, I had a hard time believing she’d ever been in this exact scenario, I guess they were all kind of the same after a while, semantics aside.

“Well, that makes sense considering your current state.” It was more of a reprimand than anything else, and I audibly groaned to try and get her to stop there. She didn’t, though, having spent enough time with me to know I needed to hear it. “You were very lucky, you know. If things had been even just a little bit different…”

Couldn’t you say that about everything? If things had been even just a little bit different, I never would have met Spencer in the first place. We never would have fallen in love or fought or done any of it at all.

I didn’t like thinking about that. I didn’t like even considering a life without Spencer. No matter how much pain I’d been through, or what traumatic memories were dug up, they were worth it.

That’s what she wanted me to realize, and she had succeeded. Suddenly, as we turned into the room, I was overcome with guilt at the way I’d ended my conversation with him.

The nurse knew it, too, because as she transferred me onto the scanner, she smiled. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. If he woke up next to your hospital bed last time, I understand why he’d be scared.”

Chewing on my lips, I thought about the last time I was in a hospital. I thought about how Spencer had curled his giant lanky body onto the bed and barely slept for 2 weeks. I could see the way his eyes got more sunken by the day, but never stopped shining with relief. I could hear him chewing on ice because he didn’t want to leave to grab food until after I’d woken up, and the cold would distract him from just how hungry he was.

“He must love you an awful lot to be that worried.”

I hated when they did that; when they read my mind and said exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I tried to smile. It was hard with the stabbing pain in my stomach and the aching in the entire left side of my face, but I managed. It was just one of those things where if I thought of Spencer, my body had to react. It was as natural as breathing.

Which, speaking of…

“Take a deep breath in.” The technician alerted me from the speaker.

The high pitched whines of the CT scanner weren’t as obnoxious as the MRI machine. I was silently grateful that they were still too scared to use the giant magnet. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be stuck in a confined space, listening to loud banging that sounded too much like gun shots for my comfort.

Even just the thought made me nauseous. I felt like a baby, to have such a strong reaction to something so stupid. I’d been in an MRI before. I was a in a _hospital_. Nothing bad was going to happen to me, and I knew that.

But even now, in a machine that made virtually no noise and barely covered half my body, I wasn’t able to hold in a breath. Each time I tried, it felt like I was choking on Spencer’s lap again. The stinging in my stomach felt so much stronger, even though I knew it was healed.

The world felt like it was closing in on me, and every second that passed felt like days. I couldn’t even trust myself to guess how long it took for them to get images that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes.

I felt like such a burden. Like I was in their way. Like I was doing it wrong. Like I was a little kid, thinking that she knew what she was doing and could do it on her own.

I wanted Spencer.

That was the only thing I could think, and although it should have been comforting, it just left me feeling empty. The thought of him wasn’t enough to stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. The hands of the nurses trying to calm me down didn’t help, either. They felt wrong. They felt cold.

I just wanted Spencer. I wanted him to be there to hold my hand and distract me from my own thoughts. I wanted him to replace them with other things, like he’d promised me. I wanted to make new memories far away from here.

But I couldn’t. I was an idiot and I’d gotten myself back in the hospital, and he wasn’t here because I told him I didn’t want him to be. Why had I told him that? There was no reason that made any sense.

Once we finally did get out of the damn radiology department, I could still only barely function. The ride back to my room was much quieter, and the nurse didn’t meddle anymore. Gossip was only fun when it didn’t hurt like this.

Again, I couldn’t trust myself to guess how long I’d been in the CT scanner, but as we crossed back into my room, an overwhelming sensation of relief washed over me when I saw his satchel in the seat beside my bed. I hated the knowledge that I’d wasted 45 minutes of the technician’s time, but I was just so fucking happy that he had actually come.

Being alone in my room wasn’t a big deal anymore, because I knew it was only temporary. So as soon as I could, I sat up and waited patiently for my favorite mop of curly brown hair to peek around the corner.

He didn’t disappoint. He rarely did.

“Hey little girl.”

All the tension melted from my muscles, my head finally resting against the pillow with a dopey smile on my face. “Spencer.” I sighed, holding my hand out to him to usher him closer.

He gladly took the invitation, taking wide steps so he could be with me sooner.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I grumbled, flicking him on the arm while I locked our hands together. “But I’m glad you are.”

It was obvious from the way he let out a deep breath that he was also relieved to see that I wasn’t angry at him for coming. However, that’s also where his relief stopped. Because he’d seen me an hour prior and knew that I hadn’t been crying then. But now, on top of the black eye, he saw the red rimming my sclera.

Taking my hand into both of his, he pressed a hard kiss against the back of it. Without looking up, he muttered into the skin a sad plea.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?” I asked, pulling back on my hand so he would stop with the shameless display of romance in such an awful place.

“Whatever’s going on.” He paused, but was clearly unhappy with the open ended question, and just as quickly specified, “What happened last night?

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t in the giving mood, even when it was information, and even if the person begging me for it was the boyfriend that I’d just cried for in the CT Scanner. If anything, that almost made it worse.

I hated feeling like this. Vulnerable.

“Nothing.”

Spencer was getting fed up, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself from fighting with him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell him that I needed him to take care of me and ask him to hold me while I cried on his shoulder about nothing at all, but I couldn’t. He would do it in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t ask him to. I couldn’t ask him for anything.

I couldn’t need anything without feeling too horribly guilty.

“Please don’t lie to me.” He was begging again, looking up at me with those impossibly warm amber eyes. He smiled when he saw the way my lips curled at the sight of him, unable to be angry for too long.

“Am I not allowed to have any stories for myself?” I joked, reaching forward to poke his face. Instead of moving away to avoid my hand, he leaned into the touch.

“You can. I just…”

“I know. You’re worried.” I responded with an exasperated sigh, rolling my head back. I could still feel him watching me, though, with a precarious smile, happy to see my spirits relatively high while also being deeply unhappy about the circumstances.

Wanting to see that full, confident smile again, I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m sure that whatever he’d come up with in his head was much more sinister than what had actually happened.

“Fine. Stop looking at me like that.” I mumbled, gesturing to the childlike pout and laughing when he sucked his lips into his mouth in an attempt to follow my direction. I was glad he was still in a joking mood, because I had a feeling it would disappear as soon as I started talking.

I took a deep breath, looking up and away before I began my explanation of the _stupidest_ night.

“I went out for drinks with my friends–”

“Drinks?!”

It hadn’t even been five seconds and he’d already cut me off. I couldn’t blame him, but it was so freaking annoying. This was exactly why I hadn’t told him. Well, that and the fact he could get in serious trouble.

“I didn’t have any! Geez. Chill out.” I yelled back, chuckling a little bit at the conflicting looks of terror and relief. Because while he obviously believed that I didn’t drink any myself, it gave ugly context to the nightmarish guesses his mind had concocted.

“And everything was fine. We were on our way home. But then some asshole started messing with my friend. And she was way too drunk and started crying.” I was groaning internally the whole time, thinking about all the different ways this whole situation could have been avoided. Honestly, I don’t know why she had decided to try and square up with a cat caller when she knew damn well that she would start crying the second he raised his voice.

Which, of course, he had. 

“So, I told the guy to fuck off. And he _did not like it_.”

There was a powerful rage boiling under the surface of Spencer’s skin, which was only betrayed by his clenched jaw and the sheets scrunched under his hand. “Did they arrest him?” He said, trying to calm the trembling in his voice. He wasn’t angry at me for being a victim, even if he was probably a little annoyed that I went out without telling him.

Not like he was even in the state, anyway.

“I didn’t press charges.”

He took a deep breath, clearly about to tell me that I was stupid for not holding him accountable. That I could’ve gotten hurt and he would’ve gotten away with it. That I could’ve died if he’d hurt me the wrong way.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop. I didn’t want to go to court, and I’m fine. I didn’t even need invasive surgery again.”

Spencer was still angry but trying to settle himself down before he spoke. He could hardly even look at me, his hand leaving the bed to run through his hair and shake his keys in his pockets.

I wanted to tell him that the tension of silence was worse than if he’d just raised his voice at me, but I couldn’t even gather the energy to do that. My body and mind seemed resigned to their current state; they’d just given up.

“(Y/n)…” He started, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the use of my name. They didn’t retreat, especially not when he dragged a chair over to my bedside, sitting down and placing a gentle hand over mine again.

“Are you okay?”

It was so sincere. So pure, so unforgivably kind. My hand that had felt paralyzed seconds earlier twitched under his. “I just told you.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to pull my arm away again. I wanted him here. I wanted him to touch me.

So why did it hurt? Why did _everything_ hurt?

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” His voice broke, and I saw the way he was holding back tears with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. He was biting back so many things he didn’t want me to know.

But again, I was too tired to fight it. So instead, I said nothing.

“It doesn’t take a profiler to see you’re hurting.” He continued, urging me to give him anything to work with. “How can I make it better?”

He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t I let him help?

“I’m fine. Nothing even happened to me.” My throat tried to reject the words, my brain screaming at me that they were fundamentally untrue. But my heart hurt, pounding louder in my chest to tell me that the logic was wrong. Because I was a big girl, and I shouldn’t be scared by things that already happened.

_I’m safe, right? I don’t need to be scared, right?_

Spencer could see the panic on my face because I couldn’t even have hid it if I’d wanted to. And my brain was telling me to not to. It told me that I needed to talk to him, to let him listen.

“That’s not true. You’ve been through a lot.” He bargained, trying to locate that little voice in my head with his offerings. He wanted to pull that small part of me out and force it to talk so that we might finally be able to start to move on.

“You go through worse every day.”

‘ _It’s common for patients suffering from PTSD to minimize their suffering or compare it to others. It’s a completely normal response, but I want you to try to resist belittling your own feelings. They’re yours, and no one else’s. Okay, sweetheart?_ ’

The voice was so clear in my head, my body jerked in response. I looked around the room, looking for any sign of the man who’d told me them first. But he wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for some time.

“Do you know how many profilers I’ve seen leave in my time at the bureau?” Spencer distracted me from the thought. He probably figured my flashbacks were more sinister than what they actually were. As upsetting as they had once been, hearing my dad’s voice in my head was usually oddly soothing.

“No.” I answered blankly, trying to pay all attention to the man who was still here.

“Four. And I’ve considered it myself.” There was a soft chuckle to hide the guilt in the admission.

I didn’t know why he felt bad for it; his job was so ridiculously difficult. On top o constantly having to rearrange his life on account of the various inextinguishable evils in the world, he had to face thoseevils every day and try to figure out their inner workings in order to thwart them. The only time I’d ever done that, I’d killed all three of them. Not the best track record.

“The first one, she… she reminds me a lot of you.” The soft twinkling in his eyes, much like emotional music in the movies, alerted me that a backstory was coming. Based on the extent of just how nostalgic he was coming, I guessed that whatever he was about to say was deeply important to him.

However, I was fragile enough as it was, and I didn’t need to add jealousy to my current emotional repertoire. “Is this another JJ origin story? Cause I don’t think I can handle it.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the frustrated pout that formed on my face. “No,” He said quietly, taking a pregnant pause to formulate the story. “Her name was Elle.”

The story he told was woven well, although I expected no less. He told it passionately and with absolute sincerity. He told me about the woman who was one of the first people he’d bonded with on the team. The playful relationship he described was painted so vividly in my imagination.

I wanted to meet her. But by the end of the story, it was obvious that it wasn’t an option. He didn’t say anything about it, but from the far off look I could guess that he hadn’t seen her since that last day.

“She was like a sister to me, and to see her fall apart and not be able to do anything to help her… it was one of the worst feelings in the world.”

And I understood then, why he was worried about me the way he was. He was projecting his previous experience on me, but things were different with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. Realistically I should have been reminding myself that she’d had the training and resources to overcome her obstacles, whereas I was basically still a stupid kid. The prospect of facing the reality was too difficult though; I just shrugged it off.

“Well, I already killed the people who did this to me.” I chuckled.

Spencer did not appreciate my humor. There was an even stronger concern that flashed over his features, worried by my flippancy over the death of three human beings.

 _Fuck, I should feel worse about it than I do, shouldn’t I?_ But if I thought about it, then it hurt so badly. If I had to pick one, I would pick apathy every time. I would choose the emptiness before the ocean of remorse.

“I’m not worried about them.”

I had drifted away from him again, and the sentence forced me to look at him.

‘ _I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you_.’

I’d said that before. Those were my words.

I pulled my hand back from Spencer, rubbing my forehead with both hands before wincing at the sharp pain around my eye socket. It took me a minute to focus on the sentence and dive deeper into its implications. But once I remembered why it instilled such a visceral reaction, I nearly gagged on the words.

“Wait, you think I’m going to kill myself?”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly responded in the most defensive manner possible. If that was his attempt to calm me down, it did not work. It only pissed me off even more.

Because there was only one reason why he would think I was going to kill myself. I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that was a risk. Yeah, sure, I was being reckless and impulsive, but I was a teenager!

“Why would you think that?” I demanded an answer, and he was immediately hesitant to provide one. It was all the evidence I needed to reach my conclusion. “Don’t lie to me, Spencer Reid. You asked Hotch, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair now that it was obvious, I wasn’t going to want him to touch me. “Yeah, I did.”

“You told me you wouldn’t, Spencer! You promised!” I ground the words out between my teeth, hoping he understood just how much I was holding back my volume.

He looked over at the screen monitoring my heart, noting the way the spikes appeared at an exponentially faster rate. “I know.” He whispered with an evident guilt.

“What did he tell you?” I hated the way my voice shrank with my shoulders, my body insisting that I assume to the smallest position I could. Because as much as I hated that Spencer had asked when he told me he wouldn’t, I was desperate for the information.

I’d always wanted to see the files, to hear the story as they knew it. I wanted to know what happened, and this was probably the closest I’d ever come to that, unless that whole Ouija board thing is real.

“Probably the same stuff that you already know.” He knew he was disappointing me. He shouldn’t have felt as bad about that as he did, but I’d take the implicit apology for what it was.

“Tell me anyway.”

Spencer should have been delighted to have the opportunity to talk at me for such a long time, but I also understood why he wasn’t. They weren’t the best topics of conversation, your ex-best friend and your girlfriend’s dead father. But he was a trooper and a skilled conversationalist, despite people not being able to understand that.

“He told me that there were several missions your father was a part of that ended controversially. That… he reported several violations that were never followed through on.”

The words so easily unlocked memories I had tightly and resolutely locked away, it was unsettling. I could hear my parents arguing about the philosophy of blame and responsibility. My dad always arguing that he couldn’t stand aside and let innocent people get hurt. My mom reminding him that he couldn’t save everyone.

‘ _We also get to see a lot of good_.’ Spencer had said on our first not-a-date.

‘ _Yeah, but which do you see more of_?’ I’d asked, and he’d avoided the question. I remembered seeing the question dance across his vision before he shut it out. He’d wondered why I was so confident in my conclusions.

“And the last mission…”

He didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I saw the report.”

My breath was knocked from my lungs by an invisible fist to my damaged gut. I swallowed, trying to regulate my heart that was at risk of setting off the damn machine next to me. “What did it say?” I whispered, clutching onto the sheets and my gown, hoping it would be enough to keep me grounded. 

“Killed in action.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” I barked, my brows furrowing regardless of just how badly it hurt to contort my face so badly. “He didn’t– H-He wasn’t–“

“I know.” Spencer responded, a note of pity in his voice that made my face twitch in annoyance.

I turned to him with the same snarl, years of repressed anger resurfacing and wreaking even more havoc on my already destroyed life. “Do you? Do you _know_?”

“I mean, I can’t ever know for sure but… You weren’t the only one who felt that he…” He couldn’t say the word suicide, and for once, I was grateful. “It seems like all of his team had the same concerns.”

He was trying so hard to calm me down, to placate my fears and rage. He was sympathizing the best he could, but the truth was he would never be able to understand just how fucked up it was. He hadn’t been there when it was happening, so the only thing he could do was try to slap a band-aid on a well-settled scar and hope that my not being able to see it made it hurt less.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered the two words cautiously, his heartbreak clear in his eyes. He had nothing to apologize for, but there he was, doing it anyway.

“For what?”

“That you’ll never have your answer.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but his answer took me by surprise. Of all the explanations I’d heard after an unnecessary platitudinous apology, I’d never heard that. And even worse, I’d never heard it in such a broken way, sounding for all the world like he believed he’d failed tremendously.

“I’m sorry that… that I couldn’t find it for you.”

I couldn’t stand the sight, and my hand found his cheek like it did so often, returning home to find that it was just a bit more stubbly than I remembered it. “It’s not your job, Spencer. We’re not one of your cases.” I assured him, running my thumb over the rough skin and remembering that he’d only just gotten home from exactly that: a case.

He did so much for me every day, but in the past few months he’d had to do so much more. And as much as I tried not to, I took him for granted so often. It was never as obvious to me as it was in that moment, when a tear slid down his cheek at the tenderness of my touch. He always expected anger and pain. I didn’t want him to feel that way with me.

“But thank you for trying. I appreciate you.” I tried to throw my soul into the words as they formed on my tongue, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” He sighed into the small embrace, leaning his weight more heavily into my hand. Still holding back, he grimaced at the words he shared. “If I’m going to be honest, I looked something else up myself. Not on any FBI database just… old school research”

I wanted to act surprised, but it was the least shocking thing I’d heard in a while. So instead I just stared at him, with the closest I could come to boredom while still being interested in what he had to say.

“Yeah? What’d you find?” Finally settling into the inevitable resignation, I moved my hand up the side of his face to tangle in his hair. It was so soft despite not having been washed for a few days. I could tell he hadn’t slept much. I wondered why he’d bothered digging into my past in the precious little free time he had.

But then he said it, reminding me of the pain of the cemetery and the events that both preceded and followed it.

“Trent Loughton.”

My fingers stopped in their exploration of his curls for a second, but eventually continued. “I see.” I hummed, trying not to push the conversation any further than he wanted to take it. As emotional as the topic was for me, it must have been harder for him. After all, he was the one who shared the nasty habit with Trent.

“I-I saw how he died… and I think I can fill in the rest myself.”

“Mrs. Loughton did give a lot of clues.” I laughed, mostly to stop myself from crying. That woman didn’t deserve any more of my tears. It was because of her that I’d spent years trying to convince myself that Trent’s death wasn’t my fault. Deep down, a part of me still believed her.

But honestly, it wasn’t my opinion that really mattered to me. It was Spencer’s. If he thought I was a failure, or that it was my fault for what happened, I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to move past it. I wasn’t sure that _I_ would ever be able to move past it.

“The drugs he overdosed on… they weren’t yours.”

Relief washed over me, but my mind told me not to get too comfortable, yet. “No, they weren’t.” My body had such a strange reaction to the words being said without an argument. I didn’t need to convince Spencer; he already knew. He not only believed me – he had come to the conclusion himself. 

“So why did you say they were?”

It was such an easy answer, I knew he had to know it already. His hesitance to come to conclusions on my behalf, while appreciated, wasn’t necessary in this situation. “Pretty little girl with no record and a batshit war hero dad stood a better chance in the criminal justice system. I didn’t ask my dad to protect me, but he did.”

Spencer clearly sympathized with my father more so than me in that moment, which made my heart flutter in a remarkably inappropriate manner. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that those damn psychologists were right – We really do sometimes pick men that remind us of our fathers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Spencer said under his breath, and I wondered which one he was even talking about. It honestly could have applied to my whole life. He would have meant it each time, too. Because to him I couldn’t do anything wrong. I tried to take solace in that, but it honestly caused another voice to creep into the back of my mind.

I’d never be as good as he saw me. I’d never be worthy of his love.

Shoving those anxieties away again, I nodded in solemn recognition of the years I spent working to come to that same conclusion. “I know. It just took me a while to figure it out.”

My hand finally fell away from his face, although he grabbed my wrist to stop it from going too far. There was another hesitancy in his body language. His face turned down and his leg bouncing so gently I almost missed it.

“Is he the one you were talking about? The one you loved?”

Ah, nothing like a subtle hint of jealousy to boost a girl’s ego. I chuckled at the sound, swaying a bit in place to let him suffer a millisecond longer. “No. Not exactly.”

But then I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to say it. How could I describe what we had shared, when I’d spent so long trying to forget it? Had I loved him? Probably. No, I’d definitely loved him, just not in the way Spencer was thinking. Not like I loved Spencer.

“It was like, he always liked me, and I always thought we’d end up together because that’s how it happens in the movies, right? I was supposed to fall in love with him.” I ranted, trying to move my hands that were currently wrapped up in Spencer’s. “But I didn’t, and then he was gone and…”

We both stopped, his eyes trailing after me with questions he didn’t voice yet. He wanted me to finish before he decided whether or not they were worth it. I wanted to explain to him that they weren’t. As important as Trent was to me, he was gone.

“It’s fine. I’m sure he would be glad I found someone who makes me happy.” I was confident in that, at least. Because as I stared into those big hazel eyes, forcing themselves to stay open just to listen to me talk about my life, I was glad, too. “Even if that someone snoops too much for his own good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

There were many reasons, most of which I didn’t want to go into. But the way he was looking at me shattered my heart into a million pieces, and I knew that if I lied to him now, it would only make it harder to put those parts back together.

He just wanted to help. I knew I should let him help.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I didn’t want to consider all the similarities. I didn’t want you to think I was just looking for a man to replace the ones I’ve lost.”

I couldn’t tell when I started to cry, but it was even more exhausting and painful than normal. Which is why I didn’t hesitate to accept Spencer’s offer when he stood up, wrapping his arms around me just tightly enough that it wouldn’t hurt. 

“I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I whined, the comforting scent of his cologne filling my lungs and reminding me of all the beautiful moments we’d shared so far. We had so many more to go.

“You won’t lose me. I’m here to stay.” He said, reading my mind like he always did.

“I know.” I started to laugh, but this time it wasn’t held back by secrets. “You’d think a girl could lose you by getting in a bar fight an hour away and going to an unnamed hospital but nooo…”

He laughed too, although his was much more reserved. Spoilsport.

Spencer’s arms tightened around me briefly, holding me closer to him before he backed away, his hands finding home on my cheeks. I anticipated a kiss, which was usually what happened when he held me like that. But he didn’t kiss me, instead giving me a gentle instruction.

“(Y/n), look at me.”

My eyes, bruised and dry, still opened at his command.

“No jokes. No lies.” He asked, clearly enunciating each word. “Should I be worried about you?”

All I could hear was the sound of my heart and the humming of the machines. I was brought back to the CT scanner, the way it felt to be choking on air. Flashes of other men I loved were racing through my mind. I couldn’t save them, I remembered, before my eyes landed back on Spencer.

My stomach twisted at the memory of a wooden box, a check, and suddenly all I smelled was the pine of the forest.

“(Y/n)?” He asked again, although I saw he’d already received half of the answer.

“No. I’m fine.”

The most terrifying part about it was that I believed what I said, but the look on Spencer’s face told me that I was lying. And I believed that, too.

—

The thing about coming back from a gunshot wound to the stomach is that it takes a ridiculously annoying amount of time. Like, yeah, the pain is something awful, but the wait for things to return to normal was even worse.

I didn’t even know how long it’d been, my brain blocking out anything that reminded me of that day. If I ever really needed to know, Spencer could tell me. I was basically only keeping track of the days by deadlines for school and the dwindling prescriptions I had left.

My follow-up appointment was next week, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Spencer told me he would come with me, but I hadn’t really heard from him in a couple of days. He didn’t even have time to tell me about the case, although I could tell it was one of the “bad” ones – not that there were really any “good” ones.

But still, it was almost 11pm and I was about to go to sleep, but I wanted to wait a little bit longer before I called it a night. I was just hoping that I’d be able to talk to him, even if it was just to say goodnight. I missed his voice like crazy.

So when my phone lit up, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. There weren’t many people who would call me this late on a Friday – my friends were all already out for the night.

“Hello?” I sang into the receiver, already excitedly spinning around in my chair.

But the voice that responded was decidedly _not_ Spencer.

“Hey, (y/n), right? It’s JJ.”

Her voice rang like a record scratch through my head, and I halted in my chair. “Oh, hey JJ… Why are you calling me?” Suddenly, my enthusiasm morphed into an overwhelming anxiety and darkness that threatened to crush everything in its path. “I-Is everything alright?”

But then I heard it. The sound of terrible music, loud laughter, and the general bustle of a restaurant. It was followed by an even more nervous JJ, “Uhh, yeah. Everything is fine. I was calling because Spencer might have had a few too many drinks and—“

Above the chaotic noise that I just described, I heard Spencer Reid loud and clear. Well, maybe not the clear part. His inaudible slurring sounded vaguely like a rant I’d heard before. Then again, hadn’t I heard them all at this point? ?

I hadn’t put it together yet, though, and once I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. “My boyfriend is drunk? Cute.”

I was already standing, gathering my things and tossing my jacket on to head out when I asked, “Do you want me to come get him?”

“ _Please_.” I’d never heard a more relieved woman in my _life_. The very thought of him driving his best friends insane with his drunken lessons was enough to combat my exhaustion. The poor thing was probably humiliating himself one sip at a time.

But for every chuckle, I was really just hiding a deeper concern. Spencer wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Spencer wasn’t allowed to drink, and he knew that. Out of the two of us, he was the one who put himself at risk more often, and I had a goddamn bullet wound.

“Sure thing. Just send me the address.”

It dawned on me somewhere along the 20 minute drive that Spencer had not only finished his case, but also come home _and_ gone out for a drink with his team. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but the fact that he hadn’t told he about any of it…?

I tried not to think about it, knowing that talking to him about it tonight would be a waste of time, anyway. From the way he’d sounded over the phone, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk about the deep nuances of addiction and our relationship.

So I pushed it away, trying to enjoy the fact that I’d be able to see him again. Now that we’d cleared the air about my past, things felt strangely calm. I told myself it wasn’t just the eye of the storm because I wasn’t sure I could handle much more excitement lately.

Showing up at one of the bars I used to frequent didn’t do much to convince me otherwise, either. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol hit me like a freight train as soon as I stepped out of my car. How did I used to do this every other night?

As I approached the door, I didn’t even recognize the bouncer’s figure in the shade of the dim porch light. I recognized his voice, though, that’s for sure.

“Hey Jailbait, haven’t seen you around.”

 _Shit_. Slower now, I hesitantly approached him with the most innocent and well-meaning look I could muster, knowing full well that another part of my life was going to be exposed tonight. At least this time, Spencer was the story and not the listener.

“Hey Tom…” I nervously laughed, drawing out the words while I came to a stop.

“Heard some pretty crazy shit went down to keep you off the scene. Must be bad if it keeps you away from me.”

It was weird to think that they talked about me. But I guess it was to be expected; we were all friends before Spencer Reid. And when someone in those friend groups goes missing suddenly, there’s usually reason to be worried. But in my situation, the worry wasn’t really necessary (aside from the whole being shot thing, I guess).

“Crazy is a good word for it.”

He leaned forward, beckoning for me to move in even closer with a wave of his hand. I complied, although I was a little confused as to why we were being so secretive.

“Hey, sorry, but… I can’t let you in tonight. You know I normally would, but the place is swarming with feds tonight.”

Then I remembered that I actually had to explain the reason for my absence, rather than just think about it in the abstract. “Oh no, I know.” I peered around him, trying to spot the man past the door. It wasn’t hard, considering how goddamn tall he was.

I pointed to him, causing Tom to turn with an amused grin before I explained, “I’m here for the drunk noodle man.”

The look on his face – hilarious, and a little insulting.

“What? Jailbait’s picking up a _fed_? Damn girl what’ve you been into?” He laughed, barely able to control himself. He laughed so hard, in fact, I’m surprised there weren’t tears in his eyes.

“Stop that.” I whined, but he didn’t listen.

“Does he know who he’s dating?”

The question hurt more than he could have anticipated. I didn’t want to confront those messy feelings, so I bundled them all into an annoyed exclamation. “Yes, he knows!” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning away from him as I stepped towards the door. “So can I go get him?”

He composed himself rather quickly after that, shaking his head and unhooking the rope that blocked off the door. “Please do. If I have to hear one more fact about Ancient Rome, I might quit.”

With the last obstacle gone, I happily skipped through the door, the excitement returning in a bubbling wave through my chest. “Thanks, Tom!” I chirped, barely giving him a glance as I raced through the door.

The only person more surprised to see me than Tom was Spencer. Although, to his credit, I did practically launch myself at his side. We both nearly toppled to the ground thanks to our lack of coordination, but we were luckily stopped by the bar he was leaning against.

“Boo!” I shouted in his ear, hearing a small, surprised gasp from my boyfriend.

“(Y/n)?” He turned towards me now, stars quickly forming in his eyes as a big, goofy smile spread across his face. It took him a minute, but eventually he recognized me in the dim light.

“Hey old man.”

Hugging me back just a little too tightly, he began to gush, “Oh my gosh. What are you doing here?” Of course, before I could answer, he came to several other conclusions. “Wait! This is a bar. You can’t be here! You aren’t twenty one!”

He thought he was whispering, but he definitely, _definitely_ was not.

“I’m here to pick you up, not party.” I actually whispered back, turning to see JJ practically hiding at the table. I’m guessing he hasn’t wanted her to call me, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care at this point. He seemed pretty happy I was there.

“You can’t pick me up. You’re hurt.”

I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I just chuckled. “Smart as a whip, Dr. Reid.”

I ran my hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkled dress shirt he’d either had no time to iron, or had worn to bed the night before. I didn’t like either of those options. Spencer must have noticed me analyzing the fact, because his hand came up to stop me.

Trying to quickly change the subject, I blurted out over the terrible music, “Even when I’m hurt, I can probably still pick you up. You probably weigh the same as me.”

He scoffed, looking down at his lanky body compared to mine before shaking his head. “That’s hurtful, (y/n).” He attempted a puppy dog face, which only made laughter burst from my pursed lips.

Grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him away from the bar, I turned and waved to the few team members I could spot among the crowd before returning to my drunken idiot of a boyfriend. “Come on, love. It’s time to take you home with me.”

When the cool autumn air hit him, I felt the goosebumps ripple over his arm. He leaned a bit closer, resting too much of his body weight on me for my comfort, but I wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

“How did you find me?” He mumbled, trying to touch me more than he currently was. Pushing him away from me was supposed to serve as a gentle reminder that we were in public, but he didn’t seem to care about that at all.

“JJ called me.”

“They all like you a lot. So do I.” His fast responses were a little less impressive considering how spontaneous they seemed, but I let it slide. As long as he was saying nice things, it was fine by me.

Guiding him as gently as possible, which is to say not gently at all considering he was essentially a human giraffe, I sighed. “I’m glad to hear it, Spencer. Maybe I can actually hang out with them one of these days.”

The guilt appeared before I could stop it, but it was the least of my worries at the moment. More concerning would be getting him into his house and in bed without either of us doing something stupid. After all, _he_ was usually the one who stopped _me_ from being stupid. And so far tonight, he’d already done something pretty damn stupid.

As I pulled the driver side door closed, a silence filled the car. Spencer was stuck between staring at me with a lovesick smile and looking away, probably because of his pink cheeks making him look a perfect combination of embarrassed and plastered.

“So what had you drinking, Spencer?”

“A case.” He shot back with that voice he usually reserved for the bedroom. It was the voice that told me not to press, to take his answer and let it die.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t really do that this time, concerning this particular topic. . “Good thing or bad thing drinking?” I asked quietly.

I think he wanted to snap at me, to tell me that it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he didn’t. The way my hands and words trembled told him that I was just as scared as he was that the answer might be the wrong one.

“I don’t know,” was what he said, instead.

“Okay.” I accepted that answer, understanding that it meant we could talk about it later, when his blood went back to normal and his mind was where it should be. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

And there we were, me sitting and staring at the indicators on the car as the engine turned, and him staring at me in the little light provided. After staring back at him for a moment, I had to ask the glaringly obvious question.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

That’s when Spencer Reid let out an honest to god giggle, his hands reaching out to massage my face that no longer showed any signs of the black eye I’d received a few weeks prior. “You’re sooo pretty.” He drawled, slumping over in his seat so he could rest his face against my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but laugh back, petting his hair for a second before returning my attention to the wheel. “Oooh, I like this.” I whispered, letting my heart skip a few beats as he nuzzled into the warmth that only I could provide him.

“I love you.” He mumbled against my shirt, letting out a deep breath before apparently trying to fill his lungs with the smell of my laundry detergent.

The sensation of his breath hot against my neck caused a familiar desire to stir in me, just barely beaten out by the even more powerful adoration I had for the puppy-like man who was already practically asleep on my shoulder.

“I love you, too, darling.”

He didn’t hear me, his soft breath indicating that he would be out for the drive. Taking my time to avoid the roads with potholes and curves, I managed to keep Spencer on me the whole way back to his apartment. Once we were there, though, I didn’t have any option but to wake him up. Unlike him, I definitely could not carry him out of the car.

It took him a surprisingly long period of time to realize that we were not, in fact, at my place. As soon as he did notice, he rubbed his eyes like it would transform the door in front of him. “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“This is your apartment, babe.” I explained, digging through his pockets to find his keys. He jumped at the contact before letting out a sound that was way too close to a moan for him to be making in the hallway.

“Yeah that’s not home.” He answered, swallowing down other noises that threatened to erupt by the time I withdrew my hand. “But home is–“ He hiccuped, patting his finger on my nose as he tried to stabilize his feet. “Home is where you are.”

“Mmm, so smooth.” I hummed, unlocking the door and shoving his drunk ass into the apartment before he could do something else that made me question whether I should just turn around and go home.

But he just looked so proud of himself, spinning around on his feet and crashing into the table beside the door. “Thank you!” He chirped, reaching forward to grab my hand and pull me closer.

When our bodies pressed together, the first thing I noticed was the fact he was clearly much more excited to be home with me than he was letting on. The thin fabric of his slacks left little to the imagination, and when my hand slid over the tent in his pants, there was nothing left to wonder.

“I brought you here… because I didn’t want to have to be quiet.” I purred, palming his erection over his clothes.

Through his broken moans, he still managed to ask the silliest question: “Why are you going to be loud?”

He was so fucking cute; so remarkably innocent in his drunken stupor, it was hard to remember that he was the same man that once finger fucked me on the metro.

“Why do you think?” I asked just as sweetly, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

Spencer still just stared, mesmerized by the way the buttons slipped from the fabric between my fingers. Once they were all open, I ran my hands over his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He was the one to close the gap, coming down to deliver a feverish kiss against my lips. He tasted like honey and whiskey, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in him. His hands were on my lower back, sneaking under my shirt and spreading goosebumps all over my skin.

I moaned into his mouth with the utmost desperation, murmuring words against his lips. “Take me to bed, Spencer,” I begged.

The words awoke something in him, and suddenly, his hands were off of me and raised in the air.

“Wait— I can’t.” He concluded, drawing in heavy breaths.

“Why not?”

I wasn’t sure which part of this situation did him in, although I had my suspicions. As much as I wanted him, I would suppress those urges if he was really, truly uncomfortable. I almost felt bad for a second, but then he spoke again.

“I have a girlfriend.”

With a few slow blinks, I tried to figure out how the hell I was supposed to return a serious answer. Deciding that was impossible, I deadpan replied, “I am your girlfriend, you absolute idiot.”

I took his stunned silence to be permission enough to start leading him into his room. He honestly looked like I’d just told him all the answers to the universe, and he trailed after me like my hand was a leash. Still, once I sat on the bed and pulled his body against mine, he paused again.

“My girlfriend can’t— she’s hurt. She can’t have sex with me.”

I got the impression he was trying to reason with himself more so than with me, which explained the third person. But it was deeply unsettling, because I really needed to know he was here in this moment with me.

“Stop saying ‘she’. It’s me, babe.” I gently reminded, and I watched it dawn on him again, his eyes lighting up in the darkness. Sliding my hand up his arm, I pulled him forward to hopefully convince him to climb into the bed with me. “And we don’t have to have sex.”

Funny enough, Spencer was the one who had enough sense to strip off most of his clothes before he stumbled onto the mattress after me. His lack of coordination was even worse with the alcohol, and it reminded me of the virginal teenager I’m certain he once was.

It was strange to consider, that if we’d met each other under different circumstances, at a different time, our roles might have been somewhat reversed. To picture him as an innocent little thing was… kind of exciting.

But he was anything but innocent now, his face hanging over mine while he helped me disrobe, trying to focus his analytical abilities on me in his haze. Finding no pain or hesitancy, he crashed his lips over mine with an energy I hadn’t seen in some time.

And it was so invigorating, to feel his skin against mine without him having to constantly worry about whether or not he was hurting me. It’d been far too long since we shared a bed together like this, and now that it was happening, I could hardly breathe. 

“God, I love her.” He whispered against my skin, before quickly correcting himself, “I love you.”

I laughed, the kind that sputters from your lips when you try to hold it back. Pushing the hair from his face, I ran my fingers over his scalp. “How drunk _are_ you?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m stupid.” He replied with a cheeky smirk, diving back down to kiss me again. I wasn’t going to argue with the brilliant Spencer Reid, even if the point he was making was that he was, in fact, stupid.

Maybe it was stupid, the two of us tangling up in his sheets despite the fact that I hadn’t been cleared for it yet by my doctor. I knew that it was coming soon – probably at my appointment in a couple weeks, actually – so why wait? I knew that Spencer would never hurt me. Even now, his hands were gentle in their insistence, raking over my hip and stopping just short of the place where I really wanted him. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned, his hips rocking forward and pressing his erection against my leg.

“Touch me.” I ordered, louder and more forcefully than I intended. I was expecting an argument, but I didn’t get one. In fact, Spencer’s finger had already breached my folds before I even finished talking. Unwilling to let him be the only one to enjoy himself, I reached down to grab his cock.

“ _Shit_.” He hissed, biting down on his lip while he rutted against my hand. “I just want to hold you down and fuck you until you _cry_.” The restraint was obvious in the fingers slowly sinking into me, his jaw clenched and his eyes barely able to stay open. “But I can’t.”

Through my heavy breaths, I panted out another request. “Tell me more about it.”

He immediately realized why I’d asked, and his fingers began to pump in and out of me faster and with more force, his lips trailing kisses over to my ear. While I tried to keep up the pace of my strokes, it became more complicated when his breath fanned over my ear.

“It’s been so long since I bent you over and had my way with you like I did that morning over your kitchen counter…” He moaned, and I could almost feel the sensations as he remembered them. Although his fingers would never be the same, just having him inside me in any capacity felt like pure bliss.

But he wasn’t done, continuing to speak his thoughts into my ear. “I just want to—fuck, I want to fill you up.” I went to respond, but I choked on a sob, instead. The lewd sounds between us only aided his descriptions.

“God, I love the way you feel. You’re always so wet for me.” He whispered, beginning to make small thrusts with his hips. The movement essentially allowed him to use my hand to stroke himself, and he let out another unsteady moan at the contact. “Think about what it feels like, little girl.”

“I-I am.” I could barely make the words come out; my body too sensitive to his touch after being starved of it for so long. And Spencer was ready to take full advantage of that.

“I still have so much planned for you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that little stunt you pulled when you got all riled up.” He growled, using his free hand to grab a fistful of my hair. He yanked my head further to the side, laying sloppy kisses along my jaw. “I told you I’d give you triple the marks you left on me, and I can’t wait to _cover_ you with me.”

“Fuck. Please, Spencer.” I hoarsely begged, my hand on his shoulder tightening so that my nails dug into his skin. If his grip on my hair wasn’t so tight, I would have thrown my head back. Instead, I just squirmed underneath him, crying out, “I’m so close, Spencer, please!”

He did not disappoint, his fingers curling inside of me with each thrust, and by some grace of God, he was able to coordinate his thumb over my clit. As if that wasn’t enough, he pulled back to look me in the eyes. 

“I want to feel you come on my fingers.” It was more of a demand than a desire, as evidenced by the way his hand tugged on my hair. “Come on, little girl. Make daddy proud.”

Just like that, my body responded to his call, my muscles trembling from the tension as my orgasm hit me like a fucking freight train. It was such an overwhelming experience, to remember exactly how Spencer was capable of making me feel.

And he knew it, too. “Oh, _good girl_ ,” he cooed, continuing his kisses against my neck and murmuring the words as they came to him. “That’s my pretty little slut.”

After taking my time coming back to earth, I struggled from the overstimulation still burning between my legs. Spencer hadn’t stopped his fingers, which were diligently stroking inside of me while he continued to buck his hips against my hand.

“I want you to finish inside me.” I slurred in my delirium, withdrawing my hand from his dick while he whimpered.

“I-I can’t. I can’t fuck you.” He was asserting a necessary and understandable hard limit, and it was clear I wouldn’t be able to convince him to fuck me that night.

But that wasn’t the plan, anyway. 

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I said between gasps, struggling against his fingers still inside me. “Come up here.” I whined, rubbing my hands on his shoulders while simultaneously trying to sit myself up.

The movement and the words made him withdraw completely. “(Y/n)…” He warned, running a hand through his hair while he sat up on his knees. “I could hurt you.”

“That’s always been a risk with us, Spencer.” My retort was both quick and persuasive, judging by the way he almost moved, but stopped himself yet again.

“Please. Please, do it. I want you to do it so fucking bad.” There was an obvious and deep desperation. I was literally begging him, to the point that I swore I almost cried. It felt stupid, but I needed him like I’d never needed anything in my life before. He’d spent months taking care of me, and I couldn’t do anything in return.

I just wanted to make him feel good, to give him something like we used to share.

Of course, I think those thoughts were also visible on my face, and they were obviously worrying him. With tender touches, Spencer’s fingers lightly trailed over the side of my face. The brief flashes of clarity alerted him of my struggle, and he let out a shaky breath at the war inside his own mind. 

“I want to feel you inside me, and this is the only way.” I concluded, trying to lead him to the simplest conclusion. It was the safest, easiest way to solve both of our current problems. And although I could see how hard the decision was for him, my pleading eventually bested him.

“ **Fuck**.” He mumbled, leaning forward to grab the headboard, staring down at me as I shimmied further up the wood.

“Fuck!” He repeated, rolling his head back with a light groan when both of my hands reached forward to grab his hips. “ _Fine_. You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”

A giggle bubbled through my throat, and my body actually bounced in excitement as he slowly positioned himself in front of me. I wasn’t even sure which I was more excited for, my own orgasm or getting to finally give him one again.

As soon as my mouth closed around the head of his dick, I got my answer. Spencer’s moan filled the room, his hands holding so firmly on the headboard that the entire bed creaked. Although I figured he’d been taking care of himself in my absence, it appeared that wasn’t entirely the case. He seemed just as starved as I was.

“Holy shit.” He groaned, dropping a hand to the top of my head. I had to remind myself that he was drunk, which explained why he seemed so much more responsive than normal, with whimpers and pants flowing steadily through his mouth. He only got louder as he began to slowly push himself further into my mouth, stopping every few inches to retreat before pressing further.

“God, I need to do this more often. No back talk, no whining.” He said in a low tone under his breath, beginning to settle on a steady rhythm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t think of anything except how fucking good it felt to be useful again, to feel him struggling to hold himself back as he started to more aggressively fuck my mouth. My eyes could barely stay open, but I needed them to. I needed to see him in the dim light of the streetlights that peered through the window.

He looked so beautiful, so perfect, and so mine. Feeling him slide back and forth against my tongue revived memories from long before and reignited my longstanding desire to do anything to please him. In all his caretaking, I was worried he might have forgotten how to control me.

But he hadn’t. Thank god, he hadn’t.

“Come on, little girl. Earn your fill.” He whispered, burying himself in my throat and holding me against the headboard. I only lightly choked on the intrusion before my body complied, swallowing him further until my lips were pressed against the base of him.

Suddenly, Spencer withdrew, beginning a brutal, dizzying pace. Now, my eyes couldn’t stay open, rolling to the back of my head as I used my hands to steady myself against his thighs. The sobs trying to escape felt more like moans, and they shoved Spencer over the edge he’d been riding in his caution.

“That’s it. Take it.” He barked the instruction, looking down at me and smiling, “Don’t you dare spill any of it, do you hear me?”

My answer was stifled against him, just the way he wanted it to be. And with a few more rough thrusts, Spencer buried himself as deep as possible. I swore my heart synchronized with the pulsing against my tongue as his seed spilled down my throat.

I hollowed my cheeks, trying to drain every last drop from him as he finished. It had its desired effect, and Spencer grabbed my hair and forced himself deeper one more time with a growl. “Good girl.”

Once he had enough, he pulled out of me with a satisfied grunt, waiting just a second before clumsily falling onto the bed beside me. I laughed as he hit the pillows, obviously too tired to even reposition himself in the disastrous sheets.

“Thank you, daddy.” I spoke in the silence, gingerly cleaning the spit that had dripped down my chin.

“Fuck.” The curse was muffled in the pillow, but I understood it well enough. He seemed more concerned when I started to sink down into the sheets again, reaching a tentative hand out to him.

Finally rolling over, he grabbed my arm and guided me closer. “Come here.” He said with the tenderness I’d grown used to over the past few months. He turned towards me, apparently not ready for me to sleep on my side just yet.

He brushed my hair from my face, lifting the sheets to look at the now mostly healed wound. I hated it when he looked at it. It just reminded me that I’d never be the same girl he first met. Every time he saw it, he would remember that day. I didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

But even with the insecurity and anger in my gut, I wasn’t lying when I answered. “No, I’m fine.” My heart was so full, my body relaxing for the first time in so long. I was just so unbelievably happy to be together again. Even if it wasn’t like last time, it was still just as wonderful.

“I’m a little better than fine, actually.” I admitted with a bright smile.

Spencer hummed something in thought, but then winced. “Do me a favor.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping a heavy hand over his face.

“Anything.”

“Kick my ass in the morning.”

He was caught off guard by my response, which was a full-hearted laugh that was too loud for how close the two of were. But I couldn’t help it, it was just so Spencer to still be punishing himself despite the fact that nothing bad had happened.

Once I calmed down enough to talk, I turned to him with a devilish grin. “I don’t wanna.”

Then were both laughing, and Spencer pulled me close to him until he could rest his chin on the top of my head, curling up against my side. “Spoiled brat.” He whined, running his hand through my hair and down my arm.

When I smelled the whiskey on his breath, the guilt hit me just as hard as any of the pleasure. I’d been so excited to get to experience this with him again, I almost forgot the reason he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

He just didn’t want to hurt me. He just wanted to make me happy.

“I just wanted to be with you again… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” I whispered, pulling the covers up so that I could hide my shame beneath them.

“I wanted to be with you, too.” He reassured me, half asleep and barely able to talk but wanting to get the words out. “I know it’s important to you, but I need you to know I would be with you even if I never got to touch you again.”

“Please never stop touching me.” I quickly replied, a genuine worry in my eyes.

But when Spencer glanced over, he just laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“No? Even when I get pregnant and have a big ol’ belly?” I playfully answered, bringing his hand to my stomach and pressing it against the side that still remained intact.

The familiar position caused a shift in Spencer’s body language, and suddenly he was even more insistent on being impossibly closer. “You’ll still be irresistible to me.” He said against my hair, running his fingers lightly over the unmarked skin of my lower stomach.

“We’ll see, I guess.” I mumbled, not realizing that I said it aloud until I heard his confused reply.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” The defensiveness in my voice was terrifyingly transparent, and I hoped that if his drinking made him forget anything, it would be this conversation. “Go to sleep, drunk ass.”

“I need hugs and kisses first.” He complained, rubbing his nose against me in a way that should have been irritating instead of adorable.

“Spoiled.” I grumbled, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. I turned to kiss his cheek through the smile that was plastered over my cheeks.

Already half snoring in his sleepy state, he got out one more cringe worthy joke before he succumbed to his exhaustion. “What’s good for the goose…” 

“…is good for the gander.” I finished for him, before taking the advice and following him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for those of you who don't follow me on Tumblr (where I provide way more info on updates, btw!): I have started prepping for the Bar Exam, so my updates will be less frequent. I'll try to do, like here, where they are longer if they take me longer. 
> 
> Thanks for understanding :)


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader finds more productive ways to spend her time, including babysitting Henry and volunteering at the local inpatient hospitals.

The next morning felt strangely similar to the morning of the day we’d gone to the bank. . Waking up in Spencer’s bed and smelling the unmistakable, comforting scent of old book pages and stale coffee. I’d told him when I first came to his place that it reminded me of a library, but it was more like that quiet local hole-in-the-wall bookshop.

It _almost_ felt like that morning, but there was one glaring difference: Spencer wasn’t in the bed.

When I sat up to try and locate him, I was reminded that there are consequences to my actions. My stomach hurt like shit, and I swore I blacked out for a second from the pain. It would pass, though. Considering I had gotten through the night without waking, it clearly wasn’t that bad.

I thankfully managed to get out of bed myself and take the pain medication I kept in my purse. And armed with the knowledge that the pain would subside within the next half hour, I hobbled toward the distant sounds of… vomiting.

Not even bothering to stop yet, I made my way to the kitchen to grab the poor guy a glass of water. It was the least I could do for his comfort considering that I was about to make his headache much, much worse.

Peeking my head through the open door, I frowned at the sight of my boyfriend half asleep on the toilet.

“Hey old man. I brought you some water.” 

Finally looking up, not having noticed me until I spoke, Spencer groaned as he backed up to lean against the wall instead of the dirty porcelain. “God, when did I get this old?”

“Hmm. I’m guessing sometime in the past 30 years.” I hummed, joining him on the cold tile floor. The two of us just rested there, his hand reaching out to take mine with a solemn smile.

“You’re cute.” He mumbled.

“I know, thanks.” I joked back, knowing that I really looked like a whole mess, with my hair desperately needing to be brushed. He never seemed to mind, though. I was glad for the lighthearted domesticity of the moment, because I knew I was about to shatter it like a brick through glass.

Softening my features as much as possible with the anxiety coursing through my veins, I squeezed his hand before finally whispering, “You know your age isn’t the only reason you’re sick though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He snapped back with about as much hostility as I was expecting. He ran a frustrated hand over his face, his breathing picking up almost immediately as he tried to calm himself down.

“I know you’re just trying to do what you’re supposed to, but please…” The waver in his voice broke my heart and turned my stomach to knots. With more force, he held his hand in the air and continued to stare straight ahead. “Just... don’t. I’ll call my sponsor.”

I tried to keep my voice quiet and nonthreatening as I pushed, but I knew that it wasn’t going to make much of a difference either way.

“We have to talk about it, too, Spencer.”

“No, we **really** don’t.”

“You’re going to get your chip taken away,” my voice broke in half as the word fell from my mouth, “I know that that’s important to you. We can’t ignore it.”

Speaking faster, our urgent pleas overlapped to create a small cacophony booming through the acoustics of the bathroom. “(Y/n), seriously, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A silence fell between us, and I let it sit there for a minute. I wouldn’t get anywhere with him if he was defensive, and that’s exactly what he was at the moment. But I wasn’t trying to chastise him; I’m not his mother, I’m just his worried girlfriend. I loved him and I knew something was wrong, and I just wanted to help.

I didn’t know how. The men I loved never made it far enough for me to be able to help.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming home. We need to talk about that, at least.” I offered the narrowed scope, hoping that he would take it without any more of a fight.

He didn’t. Instead, he took back his hand and turned it to a fist in his lap. That time it was my breathing that became unsteady, and I tried to touch him, but he recoiled when I came too close.

“You didn’t seem to mind me being drunk last night.”

Although I knew it was coming, the words hurt just the same. I resisted the urge to mirror his actions. I wasn’t angry. I wouldn’t be angry, because that’s what he wanted. If I reacted that way, he could write off my responses.

“I’m not going to agitate you or shame you when the damage is already done, Spencer.” I said as confidently as I could, “I knew you needed affection and you weren’t going to ask for it yourself.”

He finally looked at me again, and in doing so, realized he was making a mistake. The anger melted from his face within seconds, being replaced with overt sadness and guilt. “I could have hurt you.” He whispered through the tears that started to fall.

“But you didn’t.” I said with a gentle smile, reaching over to wipe the saltwater from his cheek. “That’s not a very good excuse anymore.”

“It’s _always_ a good explanation.” He clarified, chewing on his bottom lip. His hands released from their tense state.

My fingers couldn’t move fast enough to clear his tears, but he brought his own hands up to rub the tired eyes. I used the freedom to run my hands through his hair, pulling him closer to me.

Resting his head against my shoulder, he let out a deep, shaky breath. I continued slow, soft strokes along his arm, listening to the rhythm of his breath slowly recalibrate. Once I was satisfied with the pattern, I tried again.

“What happened on the case, Spencer?”

The tension returned, but subsided quicker than it had before. He took a deep breath and spoke through the exhale, trying to rid himself of the thought as he said it.

“We had to kill someone.”

My movements paused for a second before I reminded myself to continue, but my confusion remained. “I understand trauma is complicated but… You guys have to do that pretty often.”

Spencer wasn’t the kind of person who liked to share his thoughts. I knew as much; even his coworkers hadn’t seen the parts of him that I’d seen. There was no way for me to know if I knew them all, but I figured that I didn’t. I was almost certain there was a side of Spencer Reid that even I didn’t know. The only reason I didn’t try to figure it out was because I knew he liked it better that way. He designed his heart that way for a reason, and I wasn’t going to try and pry it out of him.

But he was scaring me. He almost never talked about his job, which didn’t bother me when it was obvious that he didn’t bring it home with him. Him getting drunk and defensive, though, were very different circumstances than the usual.

Understanding that there was no other way out of this, he continued to talk, hushed and slow. “I was alone with the guy, and I had the opportunity to kill him, but I didn’t. I didn’t kill him, even though I really wanted to.”

_‘I really wanted to_.’ The words stuck out in my head, no matter how quickly he tried to bury them.

“But after Hotch showed up, he had to do it. We didn’t have a choice anymore.” His arms crossed over his chest, but he pressed himself harder against me in a strange, contradictory stance.

I couldn’t respond to the most important part of his confession just yet; I knew the story wasn’t over. Like I’d told him, trauma and grief are complicated; however, there was something else he needed to admit before I could address the part of his admission he seemed most affected by.. “Spencer, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.” I reassured, trying to coax his arms away from his chest. I’m no profiler, but I felt like if he stopped trying to build walls, things might be easier. I could at least try to break down the ones that were tangible.

“I’m not worried about it being my fault. I’m worried about how… angry I am.” He said in defeat, dropping his arms back to his lap. He still didn’t want to touch me, it seemed. Like the same hands that had wielded a gun against a man were too tainted to share.

“I’m angry because… I wanted to kill him, I wanted him to suffer for hurting innocent people and —“ He covered his mouth, and I think the motion surprised himself.

I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible, no matter how illogical I knew that was. It felt like yet another morning was being taken away from us by what had happened before. I didn’t want to think about it; I didn’t want it to torture Spencer the way it did me. It was wishful thinking, and the stupid kind, at that.

Spencer would always blame himself and care too much. While he was always trying to work on the former, I hoped that the world would let him keep the latter. His compassion was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. The thought of losing the man who felt the need to confess to me that he’d lied about checking me out in a crowded club invoked a sadness I never wanted to experience.

Although, the prospect of that loss paled in comparison to the acute sorrow I was feeling right then, holding Spencer while he failed to hold back tears, choking on his words. “I didn’t do it, and then he almost hurt someone else.” He said, his voice growing more frantic as he broke from my hold, grabbing his hair and pulling it like it would do something to stop the thoughts.

“And I’m angry that I wasn’t the one who got to do it. I wasn’t the person who got to _kill_ him.” He spat, rocking forward as I tried to wrap my arms around him again. He didn’t let me, putting an arm out to hold me away from him. Still, he looked at me when he forced himself to say the conclusion that I’d reached the second he told me he had wanted to kill someone.

“I’m angry that I didn’t kill someone, (y/n).”

There were so many things I wanted to say to him that my mind literally couldn’t pick any of them. All I could do was stare at the man I loved, stopping me from doing the only thing I wanted to do. I just wanted to hold him; to remind him that I would love him no matter what. Just like we always did, I wanted my body to express the things that my mouth wouldn’t articulate.

But apparently, I was capable of doing that without even touching him. Because the longer we sat in silence, the more his enraged grimace warped to a frown. “Please, don’t look at me like that.” He begged, unable to take his eyes off of mine. I wondered if he could hear my thoughts, because before I even spoke, he pulled his arm back. “Don’t look at me like I deserve sympathy for that.”

Ignoring the pesky numbness forming in my lower half at the awkward position on the unforgiving tile floor, I thanked the lord that I was finally getting some relief from the narcotics, which allowed me to climb on Spencer’s lap. He’d finally ceased his valiant efforts to keep me away from him, accepting me with his hands on my hips.

When I tried to kiss him, however, he turned his face away with a sharp inhale. Careful not to use too much force, I use a tender hand on his cheek to lead him back to me. His eyes bounced between my lips and eyes, almost like he was asking me to try again.

“I’m not going to pretend you’re a monster to make you feel better, Spencer.” I whispered, attempting to infuse the words with everything I felt.

Whether it worked or not, I could never be sure, but Spencer’s small smile sneaking over his cheek was enough for me. “I’m pretty sure it’d make me feel worse.” He croaked, laughing as he bit his tongue to stop any other jokes from slipping out. Like he was betraying the pain by letting it go.

“Well I’m not going to do that, either.” I returned with a laugh. Then, satisfied that he would accept my affections, I closed the gap between us. The kiss was so soft I could almost question whether our lips touched. But his hands slid over my lower back, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me against him.

Eventually, it became obvious just how tired the both of us were. With a quiet thanks, he rested his face on my shoulder, enjoying the calm after the storm of his feelings that he’d finally released.

“Can you come back to bed?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, holding tighter for a second before he started to help ease me off his lap. “Let’s go, little girl.”

The return to my nickname made me happier than I’d like to admit. At this point, the use of my real name was like a litmus test for his anxiety. And although I could feel Spencer slowly opening back up to me, he still felt so far away when we crawled under the covers.

Turning on my side to face him, I saw something in his eyes that alerted me to just how deeply rooted this problem was. It wasn’t just the event we’d discussed; it was the knowledge that there would be many more like it in the future.

I wondered what Spencer saw when he looked at me. Did he see me like I was in that moment, or was I always going to look like I had before, choking on blood and a confession I wish I could have made more beautiful? Did he see me at all? Or did he just see all the mistakes he’d made? Would all our moments together be marred by the overwhelming tragedy of a single one? More than anything, I just hoped that he didn’t see the faces of the people who had caused us to be in that horrible tableau. I needed Spencer to see beautiful things when he looked at me, because I needed to see them in his eyes. If something so ugly was the biggest thing between us, our relationship would fray with time, each of us unable to truly see the other.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known.” I said into the silent early morning air of his apartment.

As expected, Spencer’s precarious smile broke almost immediately, replaced with violent sobs and an attempt to hide his face from me by burying it in my chest. I let him, wrapping my arms around his head in the hope that I could act like a shield for the world that never let him rest.

“I’ll love you forever,” I let my voice break, but I didn’t let that stop me. “And nothing will ever change that.”

— _One Week Later_ —

One of the things people never warn you about when you’re dating a bona fide genius is that there is no such thing as a surprise. It was like every time I came up with an idea, Spencer could see it on my face within seconds. I was never really sure how he did it, although he usually had the decency to wait until a normal person would have figured it out to say something. For example, when we were about three streets away from his best friend’s house.

“Why are we going to JJ’s house?” He finally asked, turning to me with a confused but excited expression that almost hid the residual negative feelings that insisted on sticking around a week later.

I glanced over at him, laughing at the way his fingers bounced on his lap. He never was subtle with his emotions. “I may or may not have offered us up as babysitters so she and Will could have a much needed date night.”

From the way his shoulders dropped, I could tell it wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. Still, it didn’t seem like he was disappointed— he was simply trying to read my motivations that were seemingly counter-intuitive.

“Really? Isn’t that gonna be a lot for you?” The concern was evident in his voice, which I found both endearing and a little annoying. It wasn’t this fault, really. I was just so freaking tired of not being able to do basically anything I wanted to. Especially when the thing I wanted to do was watch my boyfriend and his godson.

“Henry may be well behaved, but he’s still a toddler.” Spencer continued, eliciting a deep sigh from me. 

“That’s why you’re here.” I half-joked, pulling into the driveway that was starting to feel familiar. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would become friends with the woman I was angrily binge watching clips of on YouTube, I would have asked them if they had me confused for another girl. But, much to Spencer’s delight, JJ and I never really had that awkward phase. From the second that I met her, I knew that we just wanted the same thing: above all, for the people we loved to be happy. And it seemed we both had a soft spot for the man currently in my passenger seat.

“Oh, running after the kid is my job?” He laughed, already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his bag onto his lap in his excitement.

“Yep.” I stuck out my tongue at him, which only made him lean over in an attempt to steal a kiss. I allowed it, if only to bring him within arm’s reach. When he started to pull away, clearly ready to hop out of the car and run to his favorite toddler, I grabbed a fistful of his cardigan in an attempt to keep him closer for a second longer.

“But seriously, Spencer, I…”

He settled into his seat, immediately recognizing the faint tremor in my words. His hand came to rest over mine, and I sighed at the warmth that filled my whole body in seconds.

“I want you to remember that you’re a good person.” I whispered, trying to let him feel how deeply I meant the words, “I know how much you love Henry. I think spending time taking care of someone that’s… not me… will be good for you. And me.”

Those big brown eyes glassed over, glancing down and then away from me as he remembered looking at my stomach didn’t ever do much for his self-hatred. Which, in turn, just made me feel worse. I wondered if there would ever be a day where he could look at me and not feel that way. I desperately hoped that there would be.

Spencer rubbed his eyes to stop any other emotions from spilling out. “Does JJ know we’re using her kid as therapy?” He joked between sniffles.

“She’s a smart lady.” I shrugged, smoothing out the now wrinkled cardigan beneath my fingers. “Besides, Henry said he missed you and it’s hard to say no to him.”

And just like that, Spencer’s bouncing returned, his hand reaching behind him to open the door before he could even open his mouth to speak. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting, then.”

There was no stopping him at that point, and I trailed along behind him, watching as Henry tumbled out of the front door and straight into my boyfriend’s waiting arms on the porch.

The rest of the night went a lot like that, too. Once the novelty of having me there wore off, and Henry realized that my boo-boo made it hard for me to play the way little boys liked to, Spencer returned to his rightful place as Henry’s favorite babysitter.

I didn’t mind; I was perfectly content watching the two of them. Between the cheesy magic tricks that required a little bit of childlike innocence to be entertained by and Spencer’s attempts to follow along with Henry’s excited rants about cartoons my boyfriend had never even heard of, I somehow fell even more in love with the man.

And even though I had planned this for him, it was restorative for me, too. There was this weird, paradoxical guilt you feel when you’re dating someone like him. Although I know that he wanted to spend every waking second of his free time with me, it made me feel like he was missing out on something else. Something better than me.

It was so easy to forget that we could do those things together. In a way, I could thank my injury for that. When we were limited so much on what we could do together, we had to find creative ways to spend time together that were still stimulating for the both of us.

That being said, in that moment I wished for nothing more than _rest_. Even just watching the two boys together was exhausting, so when Henry’s first yawn sounded, I jumped at the opportunity. Because, see, Spencer was good at the playing, but I was much better at the cuddling.

It wasn’t like he could argue, either, because while Henry curled up next to me on one side, Spencer was on the other, his arm reaching around to rest on the young boy’s back. Despite picking out the movie, Henry fell asleep against my chest within minutes.

And in the quiet calmness of JJ’s house, I found myself almost falling asleep, too. My head rested against Spencer’s shoulder, moving ever so slightly with each deep breath as my eyes struggled to stay open. That was when Spencer kissed the top of my head so delicately that I almost didn’t feel it.

“I love you, little girl.”

My heart skipped a beat at the sound, and the wave of goosebumps and satisfaction covered me like a blanket. If we’d stayed for even a few minutes longer, I would have fallen asleep right there. However, JJ and Will arrived home just in the nick of time. They tried to convince us to stay, but Spencer seemed uncharacteristically excited to leave, so I didn’t question it even though I wanted to. I took the trip home to catch up on my phone and try to wake myself up enough to spend another hour or so awake with him before I passed out.

“Don’t fall asleep yet.”

I perked up in my seat, not entirely sure if he’d actually said the words, or if I’d just imagined them a little too vividly. But when he glanced over at me, I knew that he was just doing that slightly unsettling thing where he read my thoughts.

“Why? You got plans?” I said through a yawn, trying to stretch within the confines of the car.

“As a matter of fact, I do have plans.”

At first, I thought nothing of the smug way he said it— up until I felt his hand slowly slide up my thigh, the pressure of his fingers increasing when he couldn’t go any further.

“This feels familiar.” I chuckled, my mind transporting me back to our first not-a-date. The sensations caused a desire to burn through me so quickly I became lightheaded, my lungs hungry and desperate as Spencer continued to tease me by avoiding the one place he knew I wanted him to touch.

But, of course, just as I reached down to move his hand, he pulled it away altogether.

“Lucky for you, we’re almost home.”

I audibly groaned, knocking my head back against the seat now that Spencer had succeeded in waking me up. “Sometimes, Spencer…” I mumbled, “I remember why I have to be such a fucking brat.”

“It’s my fault, is it?”

There was a distinct darkness and deviancy in his words, despite the joking cadence they were uttered in. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in some time; a voice that was imprinted so vividly in my memory that even just the thought of it would make me putty in his hands. And I knew that I was reminiscing a lot, trying to relive times that had long since passed, but every time I saw a part of the old Spencer — the Spencer who rambled in museums and demanded I cover up my Lolita costume — the more I felt like my life was finally returning to normal.

“Of course it’s your fault. Have you seen me?” I gestured to myself, swamped in a sweatshirt and shorts like a weather-confused idiot. If the clashing clothing wasn’t enough, my make up had smeared from constantly rubbing my eyes. “I’m an angel.” I concluded, intending it to be sarcastic but knowing that he really saw me that way.

And sure enough, Spencer looked me over for just one second before pulling into the parking lot to his apartment complex. “You’re spoiled.” He decided.

“Doesn’t feel that way right now.” I whined, chewing on my bottom lip as I continued to wait for his attention.

But he just parked my car, leaning over to grab his bag from between my legs. Before it got too far, though, I clamped my legs around the leather. “Stop ignoring me!” I said through a pout, only getting more heated as he chuckled in response, tugging on the satchel until it slid from between my legs.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, his other hand grabbing my chin and forcing my bottom lip out from between my teeth. He held my mouth open against my resistance, but as soon as I gave into his hold, he relaxed his grip, leaning forward and pressing a much-too-soft kiss against my lips.

Without even fully breaking away, he turned my head to the side to whisper in my ear, “Get inside and I’ll make it up to you.”

Life was returning to normal. Together we excitedly stumbled through the Langham apartment complex until we got to his door, and he fumbled to unlock it without letting me go.

Everything about the chaos felt comfortable and predictable. I didn’t even notice the dull throbbing in my stomach because Spencer’s hands felt like home. The insistent noise of all my messy insecurities was quieted by his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as we finally crossed the threshold.

“Watching you with Henry, I just...” Spencer began to mumble against my neck, our bodies gravitating toward his room with a complete lack of grace, considering how well I should know the layout by now. We made it to the door, but not his bed, as he pressed me against the wall right on the other side.

His lips were slightly swollen from how feverishly he’d kissed me, his breathing ragged and his hair wild from where my hands had raked through it a few too many times. But his eyes were what really caught my attention, staring into me so deeply that it caused a shiver to roll down my spine. Spencer sensed my hesitance, because he brought a gentle hand to my face before he spoke, quietly but surely.

“I want to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

I thought about before; how those words would have filled me with both a naive joy and overwhelming anxiety. But as I stood there, staring back at him, I felt a genuine smile spreading across my lips.

“We speak in a lot of ‘ _one days,_ ’ Dr. Reid.”

I couldn’t tell the effect the words had on him, although I had a few guesses. I’d avoided the part of the sentence he’d meant for me to hear the loudest. We both knew I’d heard it. At the same time, I hadn’t denied the idea or given any reason to suggest I wasn’t happy about the statement. 

“I’m serious.” He insisted, not ready to drop the subject just yet.

Unfortunately for him, though, I had other plans. As much as the talk of marriage gave me butterflies, there were more immediate needs I wanted him to fulfill. So, without saying anything, I subtly suggested that he put off the conversation and switch to other activities with a firm hand against the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

“God, I want to fuck you.” He immediately groaned, his head lolling forward and resting against mine. I figured that it would be harder to convince him to fuck me now that he wasn’t drunk, but he seemed even more willing now that we’d already made the leap of faith once. Nothing bad had happened to me then, and the dramatic improvement of my mood was helpful for both of us.

So I began to slide down the wall, my hands raking down his chest as I giggled, “Let me help you.”

Spencer’s hands moved so quickly and with such strength that it surprised the both of us. Luckily, he’d grabbed my hips instead of my stomach, halting me before I could drop to my knees.

“No.” He firmly corrected, lifting me back to my normal height before turning the two of us around so that my back was to the bed. “It’s _my_ turn.”

Much gentler now, he helped lower me onto the bed, but he didn’t follow me yet.

“Take off your clothes.” He instructed me as he removed his own.

I listened, watching him intently to try and determine his plans before he actually got to me. But he kept his expressions to a minimum, only giving away his enthusiasm in watching me sheepishly remove my clothing. My shirt was still on when he climbed onto the bed and over my body.

“I want to see you.” There was something pitiful about the way he uttered the words, and my hands hesitated, holding tightly to the hem of my shirt as I avoided his eyes.

“You have an eidetic memory, Spencer. You know what it looks like.”

“I’ll never stop wanting to see you. You’re so beautiful, (y/n).” He used my name, and my body reacted just as quickly as he realized his mistake. Grabbing my arms before I could close them over me, he brought my wrists against the bed beside my head. “You can leave it on _for now_.”

What he said provided me all the context I needed to know what he was planning, and I locked my legs around him, hoping that I could stall him for a few moments.

“Please, Spencer. _Please_ fuck me.” I begged, arching my back and baring my neck to him, knowing that he could see my erratic pulse in my neck.

“I can’t. Not yet.” His voice was strained, one hand raised so that his fingers could brush over my neck. “It won’t be much longer.”

Frustrated by his undying desire to take care of me, I used my hand that he’d released to grab a handful of his hair. “I want to feel you inside of me again.” I moaned through the words, my heels digging into his back and bringing his hips down to meet mine. I watched as his eyelids fluttered shut, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I want to see the look on your face when you fill me up.” I continued, bucking up in search of the delicious friction I’d been deprived of for months now. “I know what you’re thinking when you do it.”

“F-fuck.” He struggled to lower his hand to hold my hips down, but I could tell he was scared he would hurt me in the process. It was a dangerous game, to ever put me in this position when neither of us had pants on. Spencer’s confidence wavered as he choked on his words, “This isn’t going to work.”

“You can’t think about that if I’m not touching you.”

“ _Yes_ , I can.” He responded with no hesitation, his eyebrows raising in a challenge.

“But isn’t it so much more fun when it’s actually possible?” I cooed.

“It’s always possible, it’s just so unlikel— Fuck!” Spencer cut off by his own gasp when I finally succeeded in pulling him against my heat.

The noise that I gave was something between a sigh and a moan, and I swore I saw Spencer’s pupils dilate in response. There were just some things he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried. But my satisfaction was short lived, and Spencer sat up on his knees to place a manageable distance between us.

“We’re not doing this.” He growled through clenched teeth, his nails raking over my thighs before he removed them entirely. “Stop being a _greedy fucking brat_ and spread your legs.”

I waited a second, hoping that Spencer would get impatient and force my legs open himself. But he flashed me a look, warning me that if I didn’t behave, he could very easily just send me to bed without any satisfaction. And as much as I wanted to call his bluff, the idea of going to bed without getting to touch him was so upsetting.

So, I slowly dropped my legs open, running my hands over the skin still burning from where his hands had touched me. And even slower, Spencer lowered himself until his face rested against my thigh, the scruff of his cheek causing a shiver to run up my body.

“Don’t tell me that a few months of me pampering you has undone all of my hard work.” He murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

But the fact that I did was evidenced by my laugh. “That would imply you’ve actually accomplished something to undo, but I’m just as bratty as the day you met me, Dr. Reid.”

He smiled, his eyes focusing on my face as I continued to giggle, now urged on by the way his breath tickled my inner thigh. “Is that right?” He said in that familiar cocky voice. “Because I happen to recall that the first time that I did this, you tried to stop me.”

The blood rushed to my cheeks as my mind replayed the memory of his smirk from when he had held my legs open for him.

‘ _You’re not broken, little girl. Promise.’_ Just the thought of the words was enough to cloud my mind, but I was dedicated to besting him in this exchange. If he was going to be arrogant, then I would give him the best challenge I could.

“Would you rather I fought you?” I asked, beginning to pull my legs shut before he grabbed them and pulled them over his shoulders.

“No. The instructions for tonight should be very easy to follow; even for you.”

I was trying to pay attention, but it was getting harder the closer he came to _actually fucking doing something_. It was so obvious that he was getting off on the way my eyes were barely able to stay open, my chest moving with each half-sob that came when he would lay a kiss against my hips.

“What are they?” I slurred, grabbing handfuls of the sheets to prevent myself from forcing him against me.

It was clearly the exact question he was waiting for, a devilish smirk stretching over his cheeks as he dragged his lips down to where I wanted them, moving them against my skin to say, “Stay still, and **don’t** **be quiet**.”

While I appreciated the instruction, I feared that it was in vain. Because when Spencer finally flattened his tongue against me, I couldn’t have stopped myself from immediately crying out if I tried.

My hands retained their death grip on the sheets, partially making up for the fact that my body immediately disobeyed his command to stay still. But I couldn’t help it; the long strokes of his tongue up and down my sex felt like pure bliss. And honestly, it wasn’t even just the physical sensations. It was just the knowledge that we were back where we should be; shamelessly indulging in our need for each other without inhibitions. Spencer was clearly enjoying himself, his hands struggling to gently hold me down while he devoured me like a man starved.

I couldn’t look at him, my head bent so far back I could see the headboard. His name fell from my mouth like a mantra, my hips rolling against each motion of his tongue.

“I missed you.” I cried, my legs once again locking around him, my heels on his back as I wished I could pull him closer. “I missed this so badly, Spencer.”

He couldn’t really answer, although I think the moan that he gave was meant to be a response. The vibrations almost sent me over the edge, but right before they could, he pulled back ever so slightly.

I glanced down to figure out why, and was met with his eyes watching me intently, analyzing every response I was giving him; memorizing the way my body shook with need after just a few weeks in his absence.

“Please, don’t stop.” I begged, not caring how pathetic the words sounded when they broke in my throat.

“Oh, I’m not.” He mumbled against me, raising his lips to close around the bundle of nerves at my crest.

At first, I just sighed, appreciating the soft flicks and swirls of his tongue that would eventually build up another release. But it was when I closed my eyes that he revealed his plan.

Without any warning, I felt his finger slip between my folds, thrusting into me with one fluid motion as my wanton moans filled the room. He didn’t let them distract him, his mouth intent on the rhythm it had set, and his hand insistently working to match it.

There was nothing comprehensible in the noises I made, and neither of us seemed to mind. Spencer was only urged on, quickly adding a second finger in his ruthless pace that finally forced me to release the wrinkled sheets in my hands. Instead, they wound through his hair, pulling me against him as I chased my release.

“ _Please_.” I whined, hoping that he would know what I was asking for. Because _I_ didn’t even know what I was asking for— just that he could give it to me.

And sure enough, he did, his fingers beginning to curl inside of me with each motion. I used all of the energy I could muster had to keep my hips relatively still, although they were still trembling with the tension spreading through my muscles that tightened around him.

I wanted to call out his name, to give him the praise and recognition he deserved, but my tongue was tied in the haze of pleasure that overtook me. I could barely breathe, my mind transported to some alternate universe where there was only Spencer and myself. There was no point in identifying where we diverged, because he felt so much like a part of me in that moment, I could never separate from him again.

My walls fluttered around his fingers that still pumped into me with the same vigor. His tongue continued to circle my clit while he gently sucked, clearly lost in his own form of pleasure from the activity.

I wished I could touch him more. I wanted to drag him up to my lips, turn him onto his back and ride him until my legs gave out. But I couldn’t; my body tired and no longer used to the energy we once made a habit of spending on each other on any given day. It had used that energy to dull the pain so I could enjoy the relatively tame experience we had just shared.

As I came down from my orgasm, I was filled with guilt over the fact that I hadn’t so much as touched him once in this entire encounter, and now my hands weren’t even able to keep my grip on his hair as he lifted his head.

Spencer seemed none the wiser about the shame brewing in my head, and he wiped his mouth to reveal a lovesick smile beneath his hand.

“Good girl.” He rasped, crawling up to my side rather than on top of me. With a tender hand, he brushed aside the strands of my hair that stuck to the sweat on my face. “I knew you could behave.”

He sounded so proud of me, which only served to intensify the guilt now pouring from my heart and tainting the rest of what should have been a beautiful memory. I clung to the little bit of light I saw in those toffee eyes.

“How dare you imply I’m ever capable of such a thing.” I chuckled, reaching out to hold him somehow.

He took my hand in his, raising it to his lips for a brief kiss before resting them both against his heart.

“Can I help you?” I sounded drunk from my exhaustion, but hopefully determined enough to convince him I was willing. He didn’t buy it.

“No, go to sleep.”

He leaned forward like he was going to kiss me, but then brought his fingers down over my eyes, brushing over my lids in an attempt to get me to close them. To his credit, it worked, but only for a second before they snapped back open.

“That’s not fair!” I murmured, pulling the sheet over me while I tried to sneak closer to him. I noticed the way he scrutinized my free hand’s movements, ready to stop it from doing too much.

‘ _It’s gonna be like that, huh?_ ’ I didn’t let it stop me from trying. I didn’t even get to his bellybutton before he snatched my wrist.

“I said _no_.”

“You know... I could help you without touching you.” I offered instead, pressing my hand against his chest since he wouldn’t let it move any lower. “It’s not the first time we’ve touched ourselves for each other.”

Spencer snorted at the reference, bringing my hands up to his neck, where they happily ran through his now tangled hair.

“That didn’t end well for me last time.”

“I bet you still finished without me.” I teased, my tongue slipping out from my mouth. “Did my pictures come in handy?”

“Like you said— I have an eidetic memory. I don’t need pictures.”

The most noticeable part of his response wasn’t the way his cheeks turned pink, but rather that he didn’t deny that he’d used the pictures. Knowing they were long gone now, considering Penelope’s tendency to snoop too much for her own good, I wondered if that memory was filed away somewhere special in his mind.

“You especially don’t need them when I’m right here.” I purred, tugging him closer by his hair until the gap between us was gone, our lips pressed feverishly against the other.

It was always like that. Like the second we touched, the proverbial dam between us turned to dust. Within a matter of seconds, we’d be so wrapped up in each other that we didn’t care about the wreckage left in our wake.

Spencer didn’t let it get that far, though. He hadn’t in some time.

“You have had enough excitement for one day. I don’t need anything.” He clarified, clearing his throat and acting like I couldn’t feel his erection pressed against my thigh. Still, his next statement was so genuine I couldn’t have argued with it if I tried. “I just wanted to take care of you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

But on the topic of wanting, I knew I felt it more. “I want things to be normal again.” I answered quickly, an urgency blooming in my throat that died when I tried to finish the thought. “I feel so... useless.”

His hand has grabbed my chin before I even noticed its absence on my hip. He held my face towards him, a dark and pained timbre in his voice.

“Don’t **ever** think that.”

It was a plea. I wanted to give him the relief and assurance he sought, but my gut told me to be honest with him, even if it hurt us.

“It’s just that before, we... did so much more and I’m scared that I won’t...”

Why was it so hard? He was looking at me like he would do anything to stop me from feeling even the slightest discomfort, but I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want him to worry. I wanted to make him as happy as he made me, but...

“I’m scared that I won’t ever be able to do it again.”

He couldn’t tell me that I was wrong. If he tried to make it only about my physical condition, he risked the chance of me telling him I don’t _want_ to do it ever again. Did I feel that way? It was hard to tell; it was too early to tell. But the crushing despair that I felt at the thought of losing that part of our relationship suggested I did not feel that way.

“Hey. Look at me.” Spencer’s voice tore me away from the intrusive thoughts about our inevitable fallout, his hand still holding me in place in front of him, and his eyes still promising me the world.

“Just because we’ve done something before doesn’t mean we _ever_ have to do it again.”

The words felt like the first breath after struggling for air underwater and finally breaking the surface just in the nick of time. Why were they such a relief? I couldn’t figure it out, but was too afraid to ask, fearing how Spencer might take it. Although, the tears pooling at my lashes gave him more than enough to read.

“Tell me you understand.” His request was as gentle as always. After a moment of trying, and failing, to collect myself, I nodded.

He sighed, cautiously moving his palm to cup my cheek. It was his voice that broke then. “I know this is hard, but I need you to use your big girl words for this. I need to make sure you hear me.”

“I understand.” My throat ached as I forced the words out. I could tell he wasn’t convinced but knew any argument would be meaningless while we were both so tired.

“Thank you.” He said, anyway. And like the prettiest sounding broken record, he let his fingertips trail over any exposed area he could find as he spoke the same words I’d heard before, even more insistent. “Even if you never touched me again, just knowing that you’re alive and happy... That alone makes the happiest man in the world.”

Spencer’s lips pressed against my forehead, resting there for a little too long. From the uneven shake of his breath, I knew he was hiding something, but didn’t want to ask what. I suspected they were tears.

I had disappointed him again. I had hurt him, yet again. I hadn’t meant to.

“It’s all that I need. To know that you’re happy.” There was an implicit message hiding in those words.

He was saying he wanted me to be happy, consciously neglecting to voice the resigned addition, ‘ _even if it’s not with me_.’

“I know.” I whispered, half asleep as he continued drawing patterns on my skin. I meant to tell him that he was the only man who’d ever made me feel truly happy, safe, and loved— the only one I trusted with my heart. But all that came out was a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said back, leaving me to wonder if he’d heard what I meant.

—

After everything I’d been through, I’d sworn that I would never want to be in a hospital ever again. But, unfortunately for me, it seemed my stubbornness extended even to my own limits, which explained why I was currently walking through the doors of the residential inpatient ward. It was a good idea in theory, to volunteer in the last place I wanted to be so that I could grow used to being there again.

It didn’t have to be a scary place.

Especially since the people around me weren’t the typical hospital patients. In fact, the people there weren’t even the usual patients of the hospital. Apparently, the ward was hosting a group of traveling patients that had been deemed fit for a vacation to the nation’s capital.

My assignment was simple enough - simply meet with a person and discuss the book they were currently reading. There was no requirement that we had to have read the book before, considering that would leave most people without a partner at all.

I was expecting to meet someone to discuss some niche romance novel or whatever had recently come out in theaters, but as I scanned the list of books, one stuck out to me more than the others.

_The Book of Margery Kempe (1501)_.

It wasn’t the book itself that piqued my interest— I’d never read it. I had, however, listened to Spencer explain the entire premise to me on several occasions. Unsurprisingly, no one else volunteered for the book from the fifteenth century that referred to the main character as “ _this creature_.” No one until me, that is.

There was no questioning who my partner was when I entered the room, spotting her quickly on the outskirts of the room with the book in her hand, but her eyes fixed on the raindrops slowly dripping down the window.

“Hi, are you Diana?”

She jumped a little at the sound of my voice, and I tried not to be consumed by guilt for surprising her despite my best efforts not to.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n). I’m sorry if I scared you. I was assigned to be your book buddy today.” I explained, gesturing to the book on her lap with a smile that wasn’t big enough to be fake. From what the nurses had told me about her, I figured it was best to just be as genuine as possible… which made my answer to her next question a little more difficult.

“You’ve read this book?”

“Actually, I haven’t. No one had.” I laughed, pulling another chair over to her before taking a seat. “But I have heard someone go through basically the entire story in their own words, so...” I never finished the thought, cut off by a slight scoff from the woman.

“I figured. You’re very young.”

“Hey! Young people can read the classics.” I defended, crossing the lower half of my legs and tucking my hands between my knees. It probably gave away some of my nerves, but I figured it was alright considering she wasn’t a profiler and Spencer wasn’t here.

“But you don’t.” She wryly noted.

“Guilty. My boyfriend does, though.” I acquiesced, albeit a bit distracted as my mind decided to focus on those memories rather than the current reality.

“At least you’ve got that exposure. It’s important to learn these things.”

For a second, it felt like I was being lectured by my boyfriend, making it hard not to laugh, which I was pretty sure she didn’t appreciate.

“Can you tell me about it? I want to know if my boyfriend was just making stuff up.” I shrugged, laughing while I found myself avoiding her eyes. She noticed that behavior; most people would.

But to my surprise, she started to explain the book, anyway. Less surprising was the realization that Spencer hadn’t made up any of it. It was clear as day from their similar words that they had definitely read the same book. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought they’d discussed it together, too.

She was more talented than he was at explaining, though. Maybe it was a little bit my fault, considering I always got distracted by his voice. But with her, it really did feel like someone sharing a part of themselves. I could tell how deeply she cared for literature, and it made me more excited to hear about the chaste holy woman that found herself tempted by jealousy and sex.

When her story was winding to an end, I was almost sad that it was over. “You must have been a professor.” I mumbled, having already forgotten the information I was given by the nurses.

She was quick to correct me, her mouth curling into a frown as she said, “I still am. I’m just not on the campus anymore.”

“Of course. Gotta stay sharp, right?” I half-heartedly joked, sitting up from my slouched position. A brief stint of silence stretched between us and glancing at the clock I realized that it would still be a little while until Spencer could come get me. So, I turned back to the woman in front of me, noticing the way she stared out the window as she chewed on her nails.

“Is that why you wanted to visit D.C.?” I wondered aloud, and her response didn’t help assuage that curiosity at all.

“I... have another reason.”

“That sounds very mysterious, Diana.” I giggled, leaning forward and whispering, “Are you secretly a rebel?”

She scoffed, but I detected amusement behind the apparent derision. “Nothing like that.”

As sneaky and vague as she was being, and the fact that I had been warned of her paranoia, I still found myself wanting to ask her what could possibly make her as happy as her current thought.

“So what is it?” I said, leaning back in an effort to seem less insistent, explaining my intentions in a rant reminiscent of my boyfriend. “I don’t mean to pry, I just... you got really happy and I’d love to share in that excitement.”

“That’s just selfish.”

She really was so much like him.

“That’s how you know I won’t judge you.” I pointed out, raising one hand in the air and placing the other on my heart.

“I’m not worried about that.” She just waved her hand at me, ignoring my dramatic gesticulations and sighing as she glanced down at the book once more. After another moment of contemplation, her eyes flicked up to me so quickly I almost missed them, analyzing my features one more time before she carefully said, “I’m here to visit my son.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Although her expression was anxious, she still seemed at least a little relieved to have shared her plans with someone.

“He is.” She returned, lightly brushing the back of the book, almost like she was trying to remember something etched on the beveled hardcover. “He’s a good boy. Very bright. He has wonderful adventures. He goes all over the country. He used to tell me everything but... he’s gotten too busy for his mother these past few years.”

As I took in the words, I felt the pain in her voice. My heart wrenched in my chest, imagining how awful it must be to not have a chance to talk to your family. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to ignore you.” At least, I hoped not. She had so many stories to tell, even in just this short window, I couldn’t imagine anyone would want to avoid her. Then again… I knew it could be hard.

“I know he’s busy. That’s why I wanted to come here. It makes it easier for him.” She was confident in her explanation, and I nodded back with similar gusto.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“No. I’m going to have them call him today.”

We were both happy then, and I clapped my hands together in front of me to suppress the urge to touch her as I excitedly replied, “I hope you get to see him.”

“Me too,” she agreed, simultaneously hopeful and defeated, before turning back to the window with the same wistfulness as before. “If not, the museums will be nice, too.”

“Hey, if you need a docent, I could always call my boyfriend. He would be so excited to talk to a fellow scholar who could actually follow along.” I excitedly replied, rocking forward in my chair with a goofy grin at the thought. She reminded me enough of him that I figured the two would get along. He’d at least understand what she talked about, unlike me.

“There’s no one that can compare to my son.” She warned, narrowing her eyes and pouting in a way I swore I’d seen before on another face.

“I bet. He does sound a lot like him, though. I bet they’d be friends.” The gears in my brain, rusted and slightly worn, started to turn. “They actually might be... my boyfriend lives near here.”

And that was when it hit me, the obvious conclusion I’d been avoiding for some reason. That creeping, unsettling familiarity wasn’t from coincidence; it was my brain recognizing her as an extension of the man I loved.

“...What’s your son’s name?”

She never got to answer, because no sooner had I finished saying the words thanwe both heard Spencer’s voice from the door behind us.

“Mom?”

The realization crashed into all three of us like a goddamn freight train. And even with my flair for the dramatic, I found my head spinning as I tried to will time to rewind itself.

“Spencer? How did you know I was here?” Diana said through a confused gasp, turning to me to see the equally stunned look on my face.

“I didn’t… I—“

They both turned to me, but I was too busy staring halfway between them, my jaw dropped open and my brain suddenly devoid of any helpful thought.

When it decided to finally be helpful, it was only marginally better. “Well… that makes a lot of sense.” I said with a cringeworthy laugh. When neither of them laughed, and continued to stare at me, I quickly shot up from my chair and waved a shaking hand. “You should talk to your mom. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

I didn’t get very far before Spencer’s hand caught my wrist, his wild eyes wide and insistent as he crackled, “Actually, I need a minute alone with you. If that’s okay.”

I turned to Diana for her permission but found nothing useful. She was also still caught up in the disaster that had just occurred, and turned back to her son who seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Sorry mom, I’ll… I’ll be right back.”

Spencer nearly dragged me out of the room, shutting the door and hiding out of sight of any windows. If he was ready to unleash his pent up anxiety, though, he wasn’t quick enough.

“Spencer, what the shit?!” I whisper-yelled, the sound echoing through the sterile hallway.

My boyfriend didn’t have any answers, his hands raking through his hair as he clearly tried to calm his heart and rapid breath. “I’m sorry I— I didn’t know that she was here! What is she doing here?!”

“Oh my god. Shut up. I’m freaking out. What if she thinks I’m weird?” I rambled back, grabbing my chest once I realized that I was freaking out just was badly as the idiot in front of me. Because seriously, he couldn’t tell me his mom’s _name_ so I wouldn’t be blindsided like this?

Then again, I guess I couldn’t talk.

“What did you say to her?” He whispered back, dragging his hands over his face. He seemed eerily calm while asking, considering just how much we could have gotten into during our conversation. Although, I guess it would have been weird to share the more intimate, embarrassing details with a stranger at a hospital.

“I don’t know! We just talked about you!”

“You _talked_ about me?!”

“Well we didn’t know we were both talking about you!” I said was quietly as possible, which was not quiet at all. Waving my arms between us, I tried to explain the jumbled mess in my head. “She was talking about her son and I was talking about my boyfriend and— Actually, that reminds me.”

“What?”

His answer came in the form of a soft thwack on the back of his head. He jumped, raising his hands to his head in both shock and embarrassment at the public chastisement, despite there being no one around to witness it.

“Call your mother, asshole!”

“Ow?! Don’t hit me!” He whined, and I could tell from the tone that the only damage done was to his ego.

“Stop ignoring your mother! You shouldn’t even be out here!” I reminded him, laying my hands against his chest and beginning to push him back towards the door. “Get back in there!”

Spencer’s hands held onto mine, and for the first time in a while I noticed that they were shaking. The lighthearted panic I’d felt seconds before vanished, replaced with a painful sadness that seemed to bleed from him into my hands.

“I’m not trying to ignore her, I just…” His eyes were struggling to focus, and the crackle in his voice warned me that there was something he was trying to avoid saying. “I can explain… This.”

I didn’t need to hear it.

“Explain what?” I meant the question to be an expression of my feelings, but it seemed to freak him out more. Like I actually expected an answer for why his mother was in a program like this. Like the reason he had kept that from me mattered. I already knew the reason he didn’t tell me— It was pretty obvious.

“Spencer, I don’t care that she’s here. That doesn’t bother me.”

From the faraway look in his eyes, I knew he didn’t really believe me. I couldn’t blame him entirely. The shame was clear on his features. But I also knew that nothing I could say in that moment would make him believe me; it would probably take a long time. That was okay. We had time.

“I’m serious. She’s your mother and you love her, so of course I’m going to like her.” I tried to reassure him anyway, and I noticed the small twitch of his pout that slowly turned into a pitiful smile.

Trying to keep that upward trend, I motioned to my absolutely ridiculous outfit and bedhead before I laughed, “I’m mostly just mortified about the fact that I just met your mother looking like this and acting like a fucking moron.”

Thankfully, Spencer laughed back. His hands gripped mine tighter, and through the tears that stayed perched on his eyes without falling, he croaked, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… go see your mom. I’ll go hang out in the cafeteria for a minute.” I jumped up on my toes, yanking my hands back only to them around his neck.

His arms caught me like they always did, holding me so tightly against him that I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. I kissed him just as hard, trying to remind him that there was nothing in the world that could ruin the happiness I felt when he held me.

I held his face as the kiss ended, squishing his cheeks together and warping his smile in the process. I was just grateful that it was still there.

“And take your time talking to her, because I am fucking _starving_.” I instructed. The crisp hospital air on my skin was cold as he left, but inside my chest, butterflies erupted that kept me warm. He gave me one final goofy wave before we went our separate ways again.

As I wandered through the hospital halls, I wondered if he knew how nervous I actually was. I couldn’t tell him yet; he would misinterpret it, regardless of his profiling skills. He would see the anxiety in my interactions with her as my fear over his future mental state instead of what it really was— fear that the other woman he loved wouldn’t approve of me.

There was no sense in worrying about it yet. Diana and I had shared a great time together as far as I could tell, and I would definitely make sure that Spencer spent more time talking to her in the future. So as depressing as the hospital cafeteria could be, it wasn’t so bad that day.

—

Being alone with Diana was so much different after I’d learned that she was Spencer’s mother. Then again, we weren’t really alone - Spencer was there, he’d just passed out and somehow ended up with his head against the pillow on my lap. I was a little surprised by how comfortable he was being so touchy feely in front of his mother, but I’d also recognized the exhaustion the second he walked into the hospital. He’d been out cold for at least 10 minutes, and I was barely able to stay awake, myself.

Diana seemed wide awake, though, watching the minute rise and fall of Spencer’s shoulder as he slept. At least, I thought that was what she was watching, but it could have also been my hand stroking his arm.

“My son seems very happy.”

I looked up, shaken by the sudden sound after nearly falling asleep to the rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my knee. “I think that has more to do with you being here.” I said through a yawn.

“I’m not so sure.” That was all she said, quiet and skeptical. Her eyes were scrutinizing everything she could see, and I thanked the stars that I didn’t have to go through this without him here, at least. At least we’d had one nice memory together first.

“Are you the reason he’s been so busy?”

I was dreading the question but had already planned my response. “I hope not. His job is so stressful, and he spends so much of his free time taking care of me.” I looked down at the mop of brown hair that hadn’t been brushed.

When I ran my hand through the ends of his curls, he shifted on my lap, his hand coming up to grab my thigh as he buried his face into the pillow. I chuckled at the clingy movements, which poorly contrasted my words.

“It makes me feel awful.”

I expected her to look disappointed or disturbed by the action, but she mostly just looked… sad.

“He’s good at taking care of people.” She explained, her head jerking away to stare at the lamp beside her. “I made him do it too often.”

Her answer hurt me in more ways than one. It hurt me because I felt the guilt and shame in her voice over something that she had no control over, which was obviously something that should never happen. But it also hurt because I heard myself in it, and I had to ask myself if, just like I had found traits of my father in Spencer, he’d found his mother in me.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be ashamed of being like her - she was brilliant and obviously cared for him deeply. It was the source of the shame that frightened me.

Was he just with me to take care of me? How soon would he grow tired of that? What would happen when I got better? Would I ever? Did I even want to, if that meant he would leave?

They were terrible, awful thoughts to have. So, I did what I was best at, and shoved them back into the corner of my mind to revisit when I was desperate and alone.

“I think he would disagree. He obviously loves you very much.” Was what I said, instead.

“I could say the same for you.” There was a slight bitterness in her words that forced a frown out of me. The words were forceful, almost like a compulsion that she wanted to fight but was too tired to win. She seemed to regret that, too.

“I know my son... and I’ve never seen him like this before.” She pointed to him on my lap, still sound asleep despite the conversation happening above him. “I don’t think he’s ever slept that well with me. And…”

Part of me wanted to tell her that it wasn’t always like this. I wanted her to know that it had nothing to do with any failing of her own, but a failing on the part of the rest of the world for hurting him when neither of us had been there. But she probably felt the same guilt I did that we couldn’t fix those broken parts. Her eyes met mine, and in the reflection, I saw both of our apprehension.

“I’ve never felt like a girl was taking my son away from me before.”

The breath wasn’t knocked from me, but it did fall out of me in a slow, shaky exhale. I didn’t know what to say back, terrified by the implication behind the words just as much as the fact she felt them.

“He’ll _always_ be yours first.” I promised her, refusing to look away from her eyes even as she refused to meet them. I needed her to know that I would never be a threat to them. That all I wanted or cared about was that he was happy and safe, and that I knew she felt the same.

“Then he should call me more.” Diana said, wry humor bleeding back into the conversation despite how heavy it had become.

“I’ll make sure he does.” I answered, my hands resuming their gentle soothing motions. I saw her hand mimicking the actions against her blanket and found myself wondering about things I’d never ask her. I knew virtually nothing about his childhood aside from the prodigy thing, but it was clear that his father was not in the picture, and that he was _very_ close with his mother.

I couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect him. Just as I had thought it, she’d said it herself.

“When you’re kind like my son, the world will eat you alive if no one is protecting you.”

Maybe Spencer had gotten that mind reading trait from his mother, rather than his profiler training, I thought.

“Are you going to protect him?”

I wasn’t ready for _that_ question. Honestly, I hadn’t even considered it. In all the time we’d been together, I’d selfishly worried about how any harm to him would affect me. In my defense, it had always seemed the more likely scenario.

I was so worried about being the source of his hurt or not being able to fix it that I never thought about how I could prevent it. It almost felt… inevitable. Everyone who loved me got hurt, and he’d already made up his mind on that topic.

“I’m going to try.” The hesitance in my voice gave away my anxieties, and Diana spoke quicker and bolder. 

“You said he takes care of you, but what do you do for him?”

The walls were closing in on me, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. My hand on Spencer’s arm grabbed his shirt before I noticed. I wanted him to be awake, to hold me and tell me that it would be okay. I wanted to be far away from that conversation— that question.

“I-I…” I mumbled, trying to flatten my hand as his mother saw it, trying to act like I wasn’t a fucking child clinging to her boyfriend to save her from a question she didn’t have a satisfying answer to.

It was too late, and Diana covered her mouth as she looked away. “I see.” She said before we both went silent.

The silence didn’t help either, though. If anything, it felt worse. Like my chest had been torn open and she could see all the contents, and the longer I gave her to draw her own conclusions about what she saw, the worst they would become.

That was stupid, right? I couldn’t tell. She liked me, right? Did it matter?

“He told me he wants to get married and have kids and I’m just...” I started to ramble, my hands now hovering above Spencer as I stared down at him, still sleeping soundly like the world wasn’t crushing me above him. In a panic, I looked up to Diana with what I can only assume was a terrified, frantic look. “I’m worried. I’m scared that he won’t be as happy as he could be if he stays with me instead of... someone else. And that question scares me because I still don’t know why he cares about me so much when I can’t give him half of what he gives me.”

My chest heaved from a combination of the lack of breath and skyrocketing pulse. Diana peered at me through her peripherals, a battle visible behind her gaze.

“Most people would be scared to admit that. Especially to his mother.” She thought out loud, and I knew she was weighing my open admission to determine how likely it was that I was lying.

“I figured lying would be worse. I know honesty is important to your family.” I confessed, hoping that my openness wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass. “I don’t ever want to lie to either of you.”

I left off the ‘ _again_.’

“You know what I think?” Diana said, tapping her chin and readjusting the blanket over her legs as she found a way to be more comfortable with the tension floating in the air.

I took it as a good sign. I hoped it was a good sign. I looked at her in anticipation.

“I think... you two will be happier than you think.” Diana’s lips curled ever so slightly as she held her own hand, rubbing the back of her hand the same way Spencer often rubbed mine. “Love is more than similar beliefs. It’s wanting to share your life with someone. Wanting to see them happy.”

Despite the content of her words, it didn’t feel like a lecture. It was… warm, and comforting. Her voice sounded familiar and loving and safe. She was the one who had taught Spencer to talk.

“I love my son more than anything else in the world. I won’t let anyone take him away unless I’m positive that he will be happy.” Diana finished; the warning grave but her voice quiet.

“I understand.” I replied just as softly, finally looking back down to Spencer. My heart felt like it would burst from the image. As much as I wanted him to see me and his mother having a heart to heart, it was best not to worry him with our battling affections, no matter how minimal the risk.

“Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air because I was still so caught up in his face that I almost forgot she couldn’t read my mind.

“Yes.” I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I breathlessly repeated, “Yes, I do. I love him.”

Diana must have heard the strain in my voice and seen the tiredness in my eyes, because the threatening tone faded. “Then take care of him.” She said, more like a plea than a demand. “Take care of him like I never could, because you _know_ how much he deserves it.”

I nodded, excitedly and happily, my voice breaking and interrupted by a hard swallow to rid myself of the lump in my throat when I said, “I will.”

With perfect timing, Spencer’s body jerked under my hand as it found its way back to his shoulder. “What are you guys talking about?” He slurred before even opening his eyes, clearly bothered by the lost time wherein his mother and I could have spoken about any number of horrifying things.

“We were just saying it’s time for me to head out.” I lied, and Diana’s sly smirk was enough of an indication for me to feel alright about it. It was funny—I’d just told her I never wanted to lie to him, but this one seemed pretty harmless. She deserved alone time with her son, after all.

“Do you want me to drive you?” He finally sat up, rubbing his face to try and get rid of the creases that had formed from the pillow’s texture.

I laughed at the question because he was so obviously _not_ in a position to drive. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gotten an Uber after leaving his place, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. At least this time wasn’t a walk of shame.

“No, I’m fine. You stay here and spend time with your mom. _Awake_ , this time.” I warned, poking him on the nose and earning a playful giggle from the grown man at my side. “She came a long way. She deserves it.”

He quickly got me back, grabbing my face and pulling me forward to plant a kiss on my forehead. And as much as I would have preferred one on the lips, I was grateful for his sudden modesty in front of his mother. It still felt strange.

“Okay. I love you. Drive safe please. And tell me when you get home.” He instructed as I nodded along, already having memorized the speech from every time I’d ever left him.

“Of course.” I murmured through a somewhat embarrassed pout before I got up and grabbed my things.

Before I made my way to the door, I stopped, turning to see Spencer take the seat beside his mother. She took his hand, but she looked at me. I thought about hugging her but knew that Spencer’s company was far superior to mine, and that every second I distracted her was one less she got with him. So, I settled for a wave and a smile.

“Goodnight Diana. Thanks for the talk.”

“Goodnight.” She returned, with a contented smile washing over her as her son rested his head on her shoulder. The final image of the two of them happy in each other’s company was enough to satisfy me until the next time I saw him. Because, like we’d just discussed, he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

As I opened the door to leave, she spoke again. “Thank you.” She said, and I knew she was talking about more than the conversation.

“Anytime.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Spencer share the night together following her doctor’s appointment.

There was something about the BAU bullpen that felt like another world. The open layout and the way it could shift from frantic rushing to bored silence in seconds sometimes made me feel like I was the most normal person contained within its walls. It was a rare sight, to see me there, and for good reason. I didn’t like to be there, considering most of my time there had been spent being questioned about homicide.

But it wasn’t like that, not that morning. I’d finished my doctor’s appointment early enough that I could hopefully locate the elusive Dr. Reid before he took off for lunch. And sure enough, just as I excitedly bounced over to his desk, I heard the ever-excited, yet comforting squeak of my boyfriend as he returned with a freshly poured cup of coffee.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he practically yelled through a smile, rushing over to drop the mug on his desk. He couldn’t do it fast enough and barely made it. Once the mug was barely safe on the desk, his arms raced to wrap around me. 

I giggled at the enthusiasm, considering it’d only been a couple hours since I saw him. But I was ecstatic to be with him and share the news I’d tucked away to keep safe on the way over. It was too much to bear by myself for long, and I knew he would be happy to help carry the load.

“I finished my appointment early and since I was in the neighborhood, I wanted to come see my boyfriend and give him the good news in person.” I explained. Spencer eyed me cautiously, careful not to get too far ahead of himself. I looked back with what I’d hoped was a cheeky grin, but I had a feeling it just turned into a goofy, toothy grin. Just as Spencer figured it out and his eyebrows shot up, another voice joined us.

“Mia stellina!” Rossi boomed, the bass carrying through the room like it always seemed to. It was the kind of joyful exclamation that demanded your attention, no matter how dark the circumstances surrounding you were. I knew that from personal experience.

I laughed again as he enveloped both me and Spencer in a hug that the latter only kind-of-sort-of cringed away from.

“Reid didn’t tell us that you were coming in today! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

I snorted at the implication, stepping back to buy back my breathing space. “You’re never a bother, Rossi.” And I meant it, even if he had just interrupted mine and Spencer’s very important conversation. I could table it for a moment, though. There hadn’t been many chances for me to talk to Rossi since the hospital. Although he'd visited less frequently than Derek or Hotch, he'd still come by often enough for me to miss him. He was, by far, the most unique member of the team. People always assumed it would be Penelope, but I stuck with my contention that it’s the quieter ones you have to keep an eye on. Not that Rossi didn’t love to talk, and especially when it granted him the ability to name-drop.

“This is why I like you,” he casually reminded, waving off a slightly offended Spencer on his side. “And I trust that Reid already told you about the plans for next weekend.”

As soon as I turned to look at Spencer, he immediately looked away.

Luckily, Rossi wasn’t obtuse and quickly recognized the display of guilt. “I stand corrected.”

“What plans?” I butted in before either of them could speak. Spencer grimaced at the monotone, as he was fully aware of the level of annoyed it signaled.

“I told him to extend you an invite to the next family dinner, but it seems like he’s selfishly planning on keeping you all to himself.” Rossi’s playful tone was his way of requesting I give Spencer a break, but I wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness just yet. After spending months trapped in my bed, I was always looking for an excuse to talk to anyone that wasn’t my roommate. And when it came to the team... I mean, they were like his family. It made sense I wanted their approval, right? Or was I really, honestly just seeking the approval of men like Hotch and Rossi because of my “daddy issues?” And oh, god, I didn’t want to delve into that psychology.

“How rude,” I deadpanned, instead, elbowing Spencer’s side just enough to elicit a pained exhale and an explanation.

“I was going to tell her. I was just waiting until we actually knew when it was going to happen.”

“He’s lying,” I told Rossi, earning a very adamant, denial from Spencer in the process that I brushed off. We both did. The pout that immediately followed was harder to ignore, but I could be strong.

Honestly, it was just funny to see him in this environment. When he was alone with me, he was usually the one in charge, but at work, Spencer was hardly that. It was the only chance I had to tease the ever living shit out of him with little chance of immediate consequences.

“Yeah, he’s lying,” Rossi easily deduced, waving a dismissive hand at Spencer before continuing, “But luckily, you were here. And whenever it happens, I hope that you’ll be there, too. It’s important for you to have a chance to socialize with us outside of the job.”

I smiled, finally looping my arm around Spencer’s to hopefully ease the pain caused by being ignored. Rossi, however, didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength, considering he gave another quick quip. “Hopefully you’ll bring the kid with you,” he teased as he turned away, pointing to the notably older and larger man at my side.

“How am I the kid in this scenario?” Spencer muttered under his breath, the pout still on his face, and still just as cute.

“Will do, Rossi,” I happily chirped.

“Thank you, stellina.” Rossi said with a wink, casually bringing both hands to his lips to blow each of us a kiss.

Once Rossi was fully out of earshot, Spencer sighed in resignation. He had complained before about the fact that the team had immediately felt comfortable with me, contrary to his own experience. But of course, it wasn’t fair to compare. I'd come into their lives piggybacking on their close relationship with him. Spencer didn’t see it that way, though.

“Why do you get a nickname?” he grumbled, dropping his head to the side to rest atop mine.

I didn’t let him rest there long, pushing him back away from me so that I could stand before him again. With my fingers under my chin, I flashed the brightest smile I could while dramatically emphasizing, “Because I’m a little star.”

Spencer looked down at me with a gentle adoration, his hand coming up to brush over my cheek. My face followed after him, desperate for any contact he could offer in the sterile environment. It didn’t really make much sense how touch starved I was; it wasn’t like he hadn’t touched me over the past couple months. Or even that he'd touched me any less-- if anything, it had been more.

But then again, how could I ever get enough? I was certain Spencer would call me spoiled, and in many ways, I was, but I didn’t care. If I could find a way to bottle up the way I felt when he held me, I would. Lord knows there were so many times when I'd needed it and he wasn’t there. I wouldn’t ever admit that to him, though. What would be the point?

He couldn’t always be there. Sometimes he would have to leave. 

Unaware of the dramatic monologue in my head, my boyfriend sighed. His lips pursed again while he watched my eyes soften the longer that he held my face. “You certainly are little,” he concluded. I knew he wanted to say more but feared doing so might lead the conversation down a path less suited for work. Although, what I had planned wasn’t exactly work appropriate, either.

“You know we’re definitely going, right?” I replied, peeking my tongue out from behind my lips.

With a loud groan, he took his hand back like the question had burned him. “Fine,” he conceded before quickly shifting the conversation, “but I’m more interested in what you came here to tell me. How did your appointment go?”

“It went _very_ well. I got wonderful news,” I beamed. There were many idiosyncrasies of Dr. Spencer Reid that I absolutely adored, but one of my favorites happened to be the one where his eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead, his eyes going wide with a curious glint. Just like they did then.

“Does this news mean you’ll be staying at my place tonight?”

“It can…” As I spoke, I wrapped both of my arms around his arm and pulled him down to whisper in his ear, “unless you want to take a long lunch break and get a head start.” 

“Someone’s eager,” he replied with a snort that didn’t sound nearly as promising as I’d hoped.

“Can you blame me?”

Before I could sulk too hard, he poked me on the forehead and chuckled at the resistance I gave to the action. “Lunch, unfortunately, would not give me enough time for what I want to do to you,” he practically purred in a barely-there whisper against my ear. “When I get home, I want to find you on my bed with nothing on. Do you understand me, little girl?”

“Yes.” I had to stop myself from making too much noise, but a pathetic whimper slipped out before I could stop it. 

“Good girl,” he whispered with his retreat, “I’ll see you then.” 

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait for the hours to pass me by. I couldn’t stay at the BAU for long, recognizing a sudden shift of energy as JJ began rushing them into the office right before I left. At first, I thought it was a case, but Spencer assured me it wasn’t. He _promised_ me that he would be home that night, and that I didn’t need to worry.

But the hours did not fly by; they took their sweet fucking time. I didn’t even bother waiting in the bed for most of them. I honestly spent nearly 8 of them rifling through the shelves in his living room, looking for a book that was both from this century and actually in English.

After I’d rifled through his cupboards and realized that he didn’t have any food, I went to the grocery store and bought food, returned, unloaded the bags, cooked and ate dinner before I came to one simple conclusion:

Spencer Reid was a filthy goddamn liar.

That was my admittedly grumpy thought when I finally crawled into his still empty bed in his even lonelier apartment. His pillow smelled enough like him that I could hug it and pretend that I wasn’t waiting for someone who was probably not going to come back anytime soon. I thought about going home, but I decided being lonely in his bed was better than being alone in my own.

My temper tantrum kept my face sulkily buried in his pillow, so when my phone started to ring, I didn’t notice it. I didn’t notice much of anything, and before I knew it, I’d drifted off into a world where Spencer could keep his promises because his job didn’t suck.

Of course, even in my sadness my mind drifted to other memories spent there. I’d fallen back into the loop of memories of the last time we were together. I could almost feel his breath against my thighs and his hands raking over my hips. And like it always seemed to, reality and fantasy began to blur. Spencer’s hand on my thigh felt so hot, I was burning beneath it. My whole body tensed, my back arching in the hopes of finding him.

I wasn’t sure which woke me first, the low, gentle chuckle, or the whisper in my ear. 

“Maybe I should change your nickname to Aurora.”

I sat up before I even registered the words. Reacting to his voice alone, my arms were already around him and dragging him back down before he could say anything else.

“You’re home!” I shouted, groggy but happy to not be alone. If I’d looked at the clock, I would have seen the hands pointing to the early hours of the next day, but it hardly mattered anymore. All that mattered to me was that he was there, in my arms.

“I guess it’s my fault for not specifying that you should be awake when I got home.”

Answering him with a sloppy, sleepy kiss on the lips, I relished the way he couldn’t stop himself from laughing through it. “I’m awake now,” I answered with a very poorly timed yawn. It luckily didn’t dissuade him, and his hands quickly worked up over my hips and beneath the sheer negligee I’d worn to bed hours earlier. 

“What’s this? I could have sworn my instructions were to not wear anything,” he chastised with a smile.

“I don’t follow instructions. You already knew that,” I mumbled back. It wasn’t until I ran my hands through his hair that I realized that he’d already stripped down to nothing before waking me up.

_How considerate_.

His curls seemed so much longer than before, and the movements seemed to distract him enough to grant me some mercy. We both knew why I didn’t want to be naked yet. And it really was a ‘ _yet_.’ I truly believed that I’d eventually be able to own my body again, but that point just seemed so far in the future. Spencer didn’t want to push it. Not that night.

“I’ll let it slide this time.” He shared the words with kisses over my jaw and neck, his hands growing hungrier by the second. They skipped straight from my hips to my chest, grabbing hold of my breasts through the thin fabric. He was almost out of breath already when he murmured, “Before we do anything, you have to promise me you’ll stop me if it hurts.”

“I know, Spencer,” I droned, but he kept going.

“I mean it. Any sign of discomfort, you have to tell me.”

“I know!” I shouted with a laugh, struggling to push him away while he continued to cling to me. Finally having managed to do it, I promptly fell back onto the pillow. As I rolled my body over to lay flat, I managed to grab hold well enough that I could pull him over top of me. “Don’t ruin the mood!”

He stopped to admire the sight before him. All I could see, though, was the way he looked at me. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me like that. He looked at me like he loved me so much he wanted to break me. I wished he would.

“How could I ruin anything when you look so fucking perfect laid out in my bed for me?” He growled, his nails dragging over the sensitive skin of my chest.

I couldn’t tell if it was his intention or some kind of Freudian slip, but I was reminded of the day I marred his chest with a necklace-shaped mark in a very similar fashion. The memory made me giggle. “I’m not so innocent.” The understatement of the century.

“Maybe not, but there are still a lot of things I’ve yet to show you.”

I was waiting for the but. I knew it was coming.

“But for now, we’re going to go slow.”

And there it was. I thought to myself how ridiculously unfair it was that having a good boyfriend meant actually being able to rely on them to take care of you. Even armed with the knowledge of my masochistic tendencies, Spencer was too scared to seriously hurt me. Thankfully, though, he wasn’t scared enough to stop him from sliding his hand up my thigh and slipping his finger into my drenched heat.

“The question is how slow?” he teased, recognizing from the rocking of my hips that I was more than prepared to have him then. “How much should I torture you, little girl?”

“Please,” was the only word I could whine at first, but I still saw too much restraint in his eyes. I knew that if I didn’t convince him now, I might be there for hours before he gave me what I wanted. It wasn’t the worst idea, but judging by his already bloodshot eyes, I figured I might as well speed things along.

“Please, daddy,” I whimpered much louder, tilting my hips up to present myself to him. I could feel his erection pressed against me, his palm pressing down as he struggled to decide if he even wanted to keep me in place. I could see that desire to destroy me return to his eye with a vengeance. He knew that I was challenging him, but then again, when did I not? 

“Take care of me,” I begged. That was the way I succeeded in breaking Spencer; in turn, he would break me.

He grabbed my legs so quickly and roughly that I was almost dizzy with it. Wrapping them around his own hips, he lined himself up and began dragging the head of his cock over my sex. Low and wildly shaking, Spencer’s words were only barely audible over the sound of the blood rushing in my veins.

“Are you ready?” he asked, like my answer would ever change.

“Yes!” I shouted, nodding like my words wouldn’t be enough.

Spencer had barely waited for the confirmation. Inch by inch, he slowly stretched me open like it was the very first time he touched me. His movements were so precise, so gentle and undoubtedly tender, that I thought I might actually cry.

I had almost forgotten what it felt like when he touched me like that. I would never admit it to him, but with every passing second, I could feel the love rushing back to me. That connection that had felt strained was reinforced and reasserted.

He just felt so _fucking_ good. And apparently, Spencer had similar thoughts in mind.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his head falling forward to knock our foreheads together. There was clearly so much effort going into not hurting me that I just found myself hoping he was still enjoying it. That train of thought made it more difficult when his next question came. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels so fucking good,” I sobbed, and it was the truth. My hips, though already growing tired thanks to the months of disuse, struggled to try and take more of him. And even when he was fully inside me, I still cried out to him. “Please, Spencer!”

“Be patient,” he said with a grunt, his hips pulling back just enough for him to slam into me with more force. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

The words made a swarm of butterflies burst through my lower half that already felt so full with him. The statement just sounded so perfectly selfish in a way I’d been dying to feel for months. I wanted him to reap the rewards he’d so obviously earned. I wanted to give them to him, really, but I just couldn’t make it too easy. It wasn’t our style.

“So it’s not about taking care of me anymore, is it?” I pouted, although my lips quickly parted again as Spencer increased his pace in response.

“Are you not satisfied, little girl?” he teased, reaching up with one hand to wrap around my hair, forcing my head back among the pillows while he started to drive into me at a reckless pace. “Do you need me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes!” I yelled, my hands reaching for him, digging into his skin and bringing him closer to me. “I want it. Give it to me.”

Whether he sensed the desperation in my voice or simply couldn’t hold it back any longer, Spencer showed an uncharacteristic level of mercy on me. He barely protested at all before giving into my demands. Holding my head back in that same craned position, he laid sloppy kisses over my throat before whispering, “My little girl gets whatever she wants.”

There were no more words on my mind besides his name, which I recited over and over like a prayer. Each time he filled me, my eyes could barely stay open and my lips were nearly bruised from my constant biting. It was easy to forget that the rest of the world existed— that it was past midnight on a weeknight and everyone in the surrounding apartments would probably fucking hate us. 

But Spencer didn’t seem to care either. Well, that’s a misstatement. Spencer definitely cared about my volume, but he didn’t care about other people _not_ being able to hear it. He made that quite clear when he gripped my lower jaw in one hand and pulled it down, forcing my mouth open for him.

He had that look in his eyes again. The one that told me there were entire worlds in his mind that I hadn’t seen. Deeply hidden desires lurking just under the rippling surface. I wondered how far they went and just how much Spencer would hurt me if I could convince him to.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered through clenched teeth, his jaw tensed and eyes still burning. There was a hurricane happening behind those hazel rings, and I wanted him to let it out.

I didn’t know how to ask him to do that; to convince him to break me even while I lay before him already broken and barely keeping it together. I did the only thing I could think to do with his hand still holding my mouth open to him and presented my tongue to him.

Spencer tried to remain composed and stoic as ever, but his body betrayed in him the same way it always did. His eyes. From the second they flickered down to see what I was asking for, his pupils blew out and swallowed the comforting toffee color of his irises.

With an even darker tone, Spencer chuckled, “You’re a filthy, greedy bitch.”

It’s hard to explain how much the words filled every part of my body. The way goosebumps rippled over my skin and an undeniable, almost unbearable heat burned at my face. It only got worse when Spencer finally did as I asked, gathering the saliva in his mouth just to drop it into my own.

The second it hit my tongue, I felt so irrefutably _his_ that I was high with it. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I swallowed between hungry gasps for air. And when it was over, I presented my tongue to him again.

_I did so good, sir. Please tell me that I’m good, sir_.

There were no words, but Spencer praised me in his actions. He lowered his mouth to mine, his tongue sliding against mine until our mouths were connected in the basest manner. For all the destructive power he held, he kissed me so softly. He still kissed me like he loved me.

Neither of us lasted much longer. Spencer’s hand slid from my jaw to rest on my neck, and a moan tore through my chest. Even though he applied no pressure, the casual reminder of what he could do to me was all that I needed. I lost myself in the bliss of him, my hands tangled in his hair and holding his mouth against mine even when I couldn’t kiss him anymore. 

His eyes watched me, still covered in the blackness of his pupils and that animalistic desire to claim me however possible. I watched those eyes the entire time I came, wanting to both grant him the submission he deserved while also selfishly wanting to see the control I had over him, too.

Spencer kept his eyes open as he followed after me, unable to resist the calling of my body, begging him to mark, use, and fill it however he pleased. I watched his eyes roll back ever so slightly, his breath hitching as he pulsed inside me in tandem with my walls that held onto him for dear life.

I was his. I'd known that before, but how easily I’d forgotten. How quickly I’d let some stranger and some lead lay claim to me and make me believe that I could be anything but Spencer’s beautiful little girl.

When all semblance of fight left our bodies, Spencer still managed not to collapse on top of me. Apparently not even me letting him spit in my mouth was enough to convince him I was alright. I wrapped my arms around him and tugged him down on top of me, feeling the comfortable weight of him holding my chest down to more manageable breaths.

That was all there was for a while; our heavy breath breezing over sweat-covered skin as we lay tangled together under the sheets. I soaked in the feeling of slightly uncomfortable bliss, enjoying the way that we didn’t care if it wasn’t perfect because it felt close enough to us. 

“I missed this,” Spencer said under his breath. It was a rare showing of selfish honesty— the first time he’d admitted to me that he had been having to hold part of himself back for months. He hadn’t been able to love me like he wanted, either. He might have been worried that I would take it the wrong way, but in reality, I had never felt so relieved to hear it.

“Me too.” I returned, trying to assuage his guilt as much as I could. I knew it wouldn’t do much, but I needed him to understand how grateful I was to share the moment with him.

Then again… They do say that laughter is the best medicine. So with a bit of a giggle, I mumbled, “Not so much the next part, but this one, yeah.”

With a small, sleepy chuckle, Spencer slurred against the pillow, “You’re such a romantic.”

“Says the asshole who doesn’t have to get up,” I reminded him. I struggled to move underneath him as he seemed to drop even more dead weight on top of me.

Like I said: Asshole. 

“I wish you didn’t have to get up. I don’t want to let you go yet.”

I rolled my eyes, continuing to push at his stubborn shoulders while huffing back, “It’ll only be a few minutes, Spencer. The bathroom is right there.”

Nuzzling his face into my neck, he mumbled back, “Too long.”

“I can never tell if you’re more of an old man or a big baby.”

“I don’t know, let’s stay here and talk about it for a long time,” he answered with a laugh. I hated the fact that I laughed too, my attempts to shove him off finally ceasing. He pulled his head back, looking at me with all the love in the world.

I wasn’t ready for him to look at me like that. I couldn’t explain why, but the idea of him loving me still felt so terrifying. That fear was compounded by the realization that he might see it.

“Get up, idiot,” I replied to hide that emotion. It also helped to distract me from my own thoughts, and I ended up biting on my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. It didn’t work.

“You’re so mean to me,” Spencer whined as he slowly removed himself with a small grunt.

“Only when you deserve it.”

Normally I would have eagerly gotten up myself, but I realized then just how painful it was to move. Spencer watched me with a massive, overwhelming guilt that formed before I could even think of how to prevent it. I decided it wasn’t worth it to try. It wouldn’t work. I just let him guide my legs off the bed so that I could shakily stand and shuffle off to the bathroom.

The best part about the time alone was being able to pull myself together and massage the angry scar tissue.

_It won’t always be like this_ , I reminded myself, _we can be beautiful again without it hurting_.

That was the pep talk, anyway. It was the thing that got me back into the room and under the covers. Curling up by his side was like nature’s medicine. All of my muscles relaxed against him... until he turned around and ruined the perfect comfortable position.

Groaning in the least attractive manner, I pouted the entire time we readjusted. But despite my protests, Spencer looked as happy and comfortable as ever. Plopping my head back down on the pillow, I narrowed my eyes at his contemplation.

“What?”

“ _L’amor che move il sole e l’altre stelle,_ ” he answered, which really only led to my confused face shifting to confused and incredibly turned on _again_. But one word in particular sounded familiar, as reminded by Rossi earlier in the day. Or rather, the day before. 

“I recognize that last word. What are you saying about me, Dr. Reid?”

“It’s the final line in _Divina Commedia_ by Dante Alighieri.” He was doing that cryptic thing again, having apparently not learned his lesson that I would always beat the answer out of him eventually, one way or another

Through a yawn, I mumbled, “What is that, Dante’s Inferno?”

“Well, Inferno is the first section, but I’m quoting Paradiso, which is the third and final installment of the overall work.” And apparently, he was also doing that thing where he taught me really interesting new things when I definitely did not have the brain capacity to understand or retain the information. We both knew I would have to Google it later, so there was no point in lingering. 

“Okay, so what does it mean?” 

Spencer paused, his gaze sweeping back and forth across my face like he was searching for the proper translation. Like the real answer he sought was something that could only be seen by his eyes. Eventually, he settled on a simpler and equally romantic response.

“It’s the way he describes the piece of Heaven he saw.”

But that still wasn’t good enough for my constantly curious self. It might have been the brat in me, but it was almost like he was avoiding the direct translation. Like I wasn’t smart enough to come to my own conclusion about it. “I’m going to keep asking until you answer me,” I droned, more reminiscent of a nagging two year old rather than a twenty year old. 

“Spoiled,” he remarked, lightly tapping on my nose before he sighed. “It means ‘ _the love which moves the sun and the other stars_.’”

I thought about the words for a minute. Or rather, I thought about trying to think about the words. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and blissed-out brain got the better of me, and the beautiful words whispered, in English this time, went in one ear and out the other. Spencer was giving me a smug little smile, like he could see my cluelessness written on my face.

“I like the Heaven explanation better,” I sneered, trying not to let him win this one just yet. But it was obvious from the way his smile grew that he’d already won. 

“Yeah, I knew you would. You just had to keep asking.”

Snaking my hand around his waist, I pulled myself flush against him. “I’m a very curious kitten, Dr. Reid,” I purred, gently rubbing our noses together in a very successful attempt to distract him from gloating. 

And in a brief flash of self-awareness, I realized how utterly normal I felt. It wasn’t just average; unlike the domestic moments we’d shared over the recovery, this one felt so... natural. There was nothing foreign about his hand on the small of my back, and the rhythm his fingertips tapped felt like a lullaby I’d heard a million times before. 

“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” Spencer whispered, breaking me from the brief aside and back into the present. 

“I’m pretty sure you’d have me in any form.” I didn’t laugh yet, but once Spencer joined in, there was no hope left for me.

“Yeah, probably, but you don’t have to point it out!” he whined.

I watched as the color started to form on his face, first starting with his ears and nose before spreading out across his cheeks. That blush, still visible in the dim light, was still one of the most beautiful things in the world to me. I never tired of it. Paired with his embarrassed giggles mingled with my own, I felt the undeniable and overwhelming emotion that could only be described as ‘ _love.’_

When the laughter finally ceased, it was just the two of us in silence again, although now we were so close together that we might as well have been one person. It felt that way sometimes. Not like one might think— it was not the supposedly romantic but strangely depressing idea that we aren’t whole without another. It was more like knowing that I would never be more myself than I was when I was in his arms.

Comfortable. Safe. At home.

“Spencer?” I spoke before he could fully close his eyes that he somehow kept open for me. 

“What’s up?”

“Thank you.”

That seemed to wake him up, which was not at all my intention. In fact, I'd hoped he wouldn’t respond at all and let the words stand. But he must have heard the hidden message behind it, the fear that all good things must come to an end.

“For what?” he asked. His hand on my back started to make soothing strokes under the negligee, reasserting his presence with me.

I considered answering. I thought about word vomiting all of my fears of inadequacy and broken promises and a future of settling for me. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t ruin the moment with such stupid things. The feelings would pass with enough time, right? I didn’t want to bother him with it. I didn’t even know if the problems were problems at all.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m happy and I love you,” I said, instead.

Spencer still saw that I was hiding something, but we were both too tired to push it. We could always talk about it in the morning if we remembered, which I was hoping we wouldn’t.

“I wish I could help you understand how much I love you,” he murmured, removing his hand from my back to trace my jaw. “I can tell you that I want to marry you and raise a family with you but… I don’t think it’s enough. 

My stomach immediately dropped. It fell so hard that I actually flinched from his hand, my face twisting into an even more obvious grimace. If my hope was for Spencer to sleep, I’d made a grave error. He immediately shot up onto his arm, cupping my face and inspecting my eyes for any persisting sign of pain.

“What’s wrong?” he pressed, his eyes bouncing back and forth between my stomach and eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Nothing is wrong!” I squeaked, my hands flying to his shoulders to pull him back down. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Our eyes locked in a challenge; a silent back and forth of wills and pleas. And eventually, Spencer started to lower back on the pillow. He’d let me win this one.

“It is past your bedtime,” he said with only a whisper of defeat in his voice.

“It’s past every normal human being’s bedtime, Spencer,” I said before turning away from him in the hope that it would make that concern in his eyes hurt less. It didn’t.

“And you think I’m the old man,” he joked back, snuggling up behind me and sighing into my neck as his hand rested on my hip. “Goodnight, little girl.”

So soon after he spoke, he was already asleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so simple for me. Even in his sleep, Spencer’s hands found their way to my stomach. His fingers spread over the expanse of skin like the scars didn’t exist at all. Like it was just as perfect a placement for him to hold onto me as it ever was before. Spencer had a tendency to hold me with so much love that I no longer felt capable of containing it.

It was... suffocating. It took my mind back to images of his blood soaked hands in much of the same position. His hands felt foreign again, and I felt even further away. Like Spencer wasn’t actually there, and neither was I. All that he was holding onto was memory instead of me.

He said he loved me, but he didn’t say why. The only answers my mind would consider were things that had already died months ago. Things that his hands and kisses couldn't fix.

I couldn’t ask him why. I was too afraid of the answer.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader lies to Spencer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available.  
> Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent

Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The _narc_?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a _very_ defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

_Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?_

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I _didn’t,_ ” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior. 

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

_It isn’t the building_ , I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

_It’s you. You’re empty._

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching. 

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead. 

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug. 

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear. 

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve _also_ had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t _that_ drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave. 

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

—

The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory. 

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

_Useful_.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me. 

“ _Answer me!_ ”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

_I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful._

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

_I don’t know. Please, help me._

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed. 

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed. 

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it. It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks. 

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too. I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

_I want to marry you_.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “… _What_?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to _look_ at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m _worried,_ ” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back. 

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one. 

\---------------------

**Author Update (10/25/2020): Please be aware that people have been posting my work without my permission.**

NONE OF MY WORKS ARE TO BE REPOSTED ANYWHERE BESIDES MY OFFICIAL ACCOUNTS.

If you see my works reposted anywhere besides my Wattpad (@imaginingnthemargins) and my Tumblr (imagining-in-the-margins) please report the account immediately and alert me. Thank you!


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, a new case couldn’t have come at a worse time for Reader, who’s starting to feel that dysphoria Spencer’s always warning her about. 
> 
> Content Warning(s): Adults w/ Age Gap (10yr), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, BDSM, Daddy Kink, D/s relationship, degradation, brief mention of consensual dub-con, aftercare included, Sub Drop!

The television was playing for itself, the sounds only serving as the background soundtrack to Spencer’s lips as he kissed his way down my neck and over my shoulder. I wanted to be angry or annoyed, but each time his mouth met my skin, my body gave in to him.

And when you gave this mouse a cookie, he took everything else with it. Within a single second of my hips rocking back against him as we lay together on the couch, Spencer’s fingers dug into my hip, forcing me against his painfully obvious erection.

“Spencer!” I whined while my hips continued to move with him, “You said you would watch the movie.”

I had known it was a lie when he said it. We both knew it was always going to end like this. But at the same time, I enjoyed teasing him over the fact that out of the two of us that night, he was the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Then tell me to stop,” he slurred between his kisses that were sure to leave bruises behind. “Tell me that you don’t want me to do this.”

We both also knew there would be no protest from me, and yet Spencer deemed it necessary to continue to shift the odds further in his favor. The same hand that had pulled me to grind against him pushed forward at a torturous pace until it slid into my underwear.

Once the soft whimper left my mouth, he knew he had won. He’d barely even touched me, and I was already a mess. The flashing colors on the LCD in front of me looked just like the backs of my eyelids. I could hardly tell if my eyes were even open anymore.

“How quickly you change your mind when I do this,” Spencer breathed into my ear as he finally slipped a finger inside of me. “I might be flattered if I didn’t know any better.”

It wasn’t the first time we’d had sex since the disaster; it had been a few weeks since, although it had felt like a lifetime. A lifetime that led us back to where we’d begun, wound so tightly together that my mind couldn’t follow his hands or his lips as they traveled wherever they could, memorizing the way each muscle tensed and twitched in response to his ministrations.

“Please, I—“

“Please what?” he ordered, “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Whatever you want.”

There was nothing else to say. It was, apparently, both the right and the wrong answer. I say that it was right because I felt his cock twitch against my backside, and I heard the way the breath shuddered from his lungs. But it was also wrong, because I could hear his teeth clack shut and grind together as he growled, “Do you know what you’re asking for, little girl?”

I wanted to be a brat— to remind him how well-acquainted I was with his methods, and that he’d really mostly been all bark and no bite— but something in the rough drag of his finger against my walls made me pause.

So, I said nothing. That wasn’t the right answer, either.

Everything about him became more feral with every passing second. His breath fanned against my ear and burned my already heated skin. When he spoke, the words felt similarly laced with a heat and rage that almost seemed foreign, “Do you have any idea how many filthy, disgusting things I’ve dreamed about doing to you while I couldn’t touch you?”

What was I meant to say? My throat was closing around any options, insistent that my mouth could only make mistakes right now. I could hardly coordinate my lips to my mind, let alone say something witty. And Spencer hardly seemed in the mood for my usual bratty behavior.

My mind flashed back to the last time he was like this. At the time, it had been a result of something terrible. But this time? I think it was actually a part of something beautiful. Despite the trouble that had originally led to him shoving my face into the sheets so he could find some relief, I couldn’t deny that it had felt good to be that reprieve for him.

I couldn’t imagine how good it would feel this time, with no hurt between us except the kind I trusted him to administer.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

“I have a better idea,” he answered quick enough for me to question if he had actually read my mind. Removing his fingers suddenly, I swear I heard a laugh as he whispered, “Let me show you.”

My vision rocked as my body flipped, and before I knew it my hands were scrambling to grab something, anything, to regain control of the situation before I tumbled off the couch. But I should have known better; Spencer wasn’t going to let me fall.

Just as my nails dug into the cushions, he dropped his weight onto my back. I struggled to breathe for a number of reasons, including the fact his fingers had once again found their way into my underwear.

“Remember the last time you let me use you?” he chuckled, bringing his other arm up to cage me in even closer. “You looked so fucking pathetic. Shaking and begging, even as I split you open.”

The only thing I could do was whine and wonder how he managed to maneuver the little space between me and the couch. If he was still worried about hurting me, he didn’t make it obvious. Nothing about him was gentle; he was ruthless and insistent in the most satisfying ways. As he ran his finger back over my sex, a groan rumbled through his chest.

“And you pretended like this isn’t what you wanted? You’re a filthy liar. You’re practically dripping, little girl.”

“Please—” I tried to appeal, but he must have heard it in my voice. I didn’t want him to stop any more than he wanted to. And he didn’t. With all the force I knew him capable of, Spencer’s free hand covered the back of my head, which he promptly shoved down against the cushion.

“I don’t want to hear your stupid fucking excuses,” he spat, his words laced with greed and vitriol that made my stomach and heart do flips in my chest. “Give me your safe word right now,” he ordered, “before I change my mind and leave you a disgusting, whimpering mess right here.”

I turned my face just enough to breathe, loving the way the friction felt on my already flushed cheeks. “S-Starship,” I said through a pleased gasp.

“Look at that. You aren’t completely clueless,” he laughed.

There were no words for how it felt to be crushed beneath his weight while his fingers worked inside me. I still couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t want to, either. It was just another reminder that he didn’t need his hand around my neck to take anything away from me. I was helpless to his whims, and in that cage, I’d never felt freer.

Still, his hands managed to switch between doting and domineering, and he almost seemed merciful when he cooed, “So then what’s your excuse for lying to me? For pretending like you weren’t begging me to do this?”

“I don’t have one, sir,” I slurred, my lips dragging on the cushion with every movement. I could hardly focus on that, though, when Spencer’s weight was lifted from my back. My lungs quickly tried to fill with deep, desperate gasps.

“Wrong answer, little girl.”

The oxygen I did manage to bring in left just as fast when he grabbed my hip, lifting my bottom half until my knees were settled on the couch and my arms were bent by my head. Even when he started to tug my pants and underwear down my legs, he kept his other hand thrusting rhythmically between my legs. I could feel how close I was to losing myself completely to him. I didn’t even fight it, letting all the keening cries and whimpers fall from my lips without any hesitation.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” I sobbed, keeping my face down as hard as I could while I started to shake. But then his fingers stopped, slowly dragging out of me and dragging a wet finger down my leg.

“‘ _Daddy_ ’ isn’t going to get you out of this one,” he growled.

The burning in my body was unbearable. I couldn’t even push myself back against him or appeal to him in any way. His hand splayed over one cheek dug into the skin and I felt the crescent shapes as they dutifully marked my skin. They were followed by the snapping sound of a firm slap against skin.

There would be so many marks, but all I could think of was how I wanted _more_.

“I’m sorry,” I cried again, trying to look up at him with that pitiful pout he loved to see.

“No,” he corrected, “You think you’re sorry now, but you aren’t. You will be, though.”

There was no other warning, no further preparation for the feeling of him stretching me open. He was kind enough to move slowly at first, although that tenderness was contrasted by the way he left welts in the wake of his hands, which trailed down my back at the same torturous pace.

Once we were entirely connected, he let his hand drift over my jaw, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I couldn’t keep our gazes together for too long. It felt dangerous, like looking directly at a predator. A challenge to his authority.

But where else could I look, if not at him? My eyes immediately fell forward at the reflection of the two of us in the glass panes of the entertainment console. What I saw sent a shiver down my spine as my desire reached impossible heights.

Spencer felt it, too.

“Go ahead and watch yourself,” he said with equal parts cruelty and kindness, “Watch what you make me do to you.”

So I did. I watched the way his hips carefully pulled away just to snap forward again, burying himself in me and eliciting a pained cry from my throat. Each thrust went just like that, with him bottoming out with a small jolt of pain. I couldn’t complain though, not when I saw the way his head fell back and a moan tore through his chest.

He was beautiful like this. Completely unhinged, animalistic, and… different. Every time I’d found myself at the receiving end of his pent up rage, I wondered which of his personas he related to more, the cool collected FBI agent or the sensual and cocky dominant. Or hell, even the awkward, insecure dork he was at his most comfortable. I was sure that my answer changed with the days, but I couldn’t ignore the freedom we both seemed to achieve in moments like this.

“Spencer,” I whined, my legs pressing back against him. I just wanted to feel him all. I wanted to take him in and keep him safe in my arms. But he was in a less than romantic mood, and before his name could fall again, he cut me off.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Daddy,” I corrected. My eyes left the reflection long enough to glance up and spot his cheeky little smirk.

“Good girl,” he praised. The words caused even more pleasure than the rest of him as he continued to fuck me into the couch. “That’s the only word I want to hear from you. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.”

I tried to nod, but his hand returned to my head, pushing me harder into the cushion. Immediately, my instincts kicked in, causing my whole body to squirm underneath him. It wasn’t that I was necessarily trying to get away from him, but for a brief moment, I struggled to regain some control. But that seemed to only encourage Spencer’s desire to completely dominate every inch of me.

His hands only got tighter and his movements rougher as he sighed, “Enough. I want to _enjoy_ this.”

Eventually, that fight left me. My body settled into the couch and felt the warmth of his thighs pressed against me and the still growing friction of the fabric on my skin. I focused all attention on the way we looked, lost in each other and the bliss we were creating on a dreary Friday night.

I had no idea how much time passed, but it felt like a lifetime that would never be enough. Every inch of me was brimming with love. I could feel it, the tingling covering me like a sheet. With each thrust of his hips, I felt impossibly closer to Spencer.

But the fight started to leave him, too. That darkness had spread between the two of us and dissipated in the process. All that was left was the two of us, tangled together with his movements beginning to falter.

“That’s it, little girl. You’re doing so good,” he groaned, his jaw clenching shut as he tried to fill hungry lungs without stopping. “I’m almost done. Just hold on a little while longer.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied, surprised by the tremble in the words. We were both so tired, so ready to fall apart and come back together again in the aftermath.

And that’s exactly what happened. Spencer waited until he felt the telltale tremors right before I peaked. He rubbed the marks he’d left moments before and repeated my name over and over until I was on the brink of tears and something else.

“That’s it, little girl,” he whispered again, “Let go. Daddy’s got you.”

The words were like magic. With just five words, Spencer brought me with him over the edge. He dropped his hand to mine still gripping the couch, holding onto it as his body tensed above me.

I could feel each muscle as it twitched before it calmed. I could feel everything, every point of contact all at once. I felt the way he filled me from inside and dug his teeth into my shoulder. I wanted to take that moment in forever, to never be farther away from him than I was right then.

But we couldn’t. Time rudely continued without our permission, and once he regained his strength, he pulled out of me so gently I had to laugh at the juxtaposition.

“Don’t move yet, beautiful. Stay right here,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss onto my head before he left me shaking and panting on the couch. Thankfully he had the decency and self-preservation to hurry before we made too much of a mess. Lord knows I didn’t want to spend our time together removing any hint of what we’d done in our time alone.

Then again, I did love the way he cared for me after. There was no way to really describe it— the love that was in his touch during the aftercare. I soaked in the pure elation I derived from his adoration, closing my eyes and trusting him to put me back together.

After he’d dressed me and positioned me just like a doll, my eyes finally opened again.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked, already busy working to massage my tired, angry muscles.

“No,” I murmured. I didn’t realize just how tired I was until I could barely get through the word. The panic set in again, and Spencer narrowed his eyes as he sat me up to inspect my face from a closer distance. It seemed silly, though, to look down at him on his knees in front of me right after he’d done everything he could to dominate me.

But then here he was, worshiping and worrying over me.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, just a bit delirious,” I explained through a yawn.

“I’ll take care of you. Lay down,” he urged as he helped me back down on the couch. When he kissed my forehead that time, I could tell he wasn’t just trying to show me affection.

My suspicions were confirmed when he wordlessly left my side, only to return with a thermometer and a bottle of water. Through laughs, I slurred, “What are you doing?”

“Taking your temperature,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“ _Sexy_.”

He laughed with me, then, although I could tell it didn’t do much for his nerves. “I want to make sure I didn’t aggravate your wound,” he muttered with more guilt than I thought was possible. It broke my heart, to hear him speak through such a pathetic little pout. It was my turn to lay on the praise, although we both knew I’d never be quite as good at it as he was.

“I’m okay, Spencer. Seriously. I’m just tired and…” my words fell off as I tried to put the feeling into words. That comfortable, buzzing blankness that came from only the most powerful catharsis. I ran my fingers over his cheek while I thought, and giggled at the way he pressed harder into my touch. The words came to me so naturally then.

“I’m just thinking about how much I love you.”

With a small nod, Spencer accepted my answer… with some conditions.

“You have to drink a whole bottle of water and give me at least ten kisses before I let you sleep,” he shyly mumbled against my palm that he’d dragged over his mouth.

“You drive a hard bargain, old man,” I whispered, tossing my arms around his shoulders. He caught me before I fell, just like he always did. Together, the two of us stayed twisted up as we stumbled through the halls to my room. I truthfully had no idea how he managed to have any coordination, but I was grateful for it.

Once he had me tucked into the sheets, he took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. I tried to give him something better to look at, but all that I could muster was a dopey smile and a bit of a laugh. He still seemed to appreciate it, nonetheless.

“Stay awake. I’ll be right back,” he instructed, pulling the blankets up around my shoulders one more time before he pointed to the bottle on the bedside. “And drink that water!”

I tried to listen— really, I did— but I mostly ended up almost spilling the water down my chest as I sat up to sip at it. I had to focus all my energy on the first order to stay awake, and I was dangerously close to failing at it when Spencer walked back into the room with a thermos in his hands.

“What’s that?” I laughed, pleasantly surprised by how nice the warm cup felt against my still shaking hands.

“Hot chocolate.”

“…Why?” I mean, it was appreciated, but it was strange. He hadn’t treated me quite so sweetly since the first week I came home from the hospital.

And while I understood he felt guilty, I wasn’t helpless. If anyone looked that way, it was the man who was barely able to coherently reply, “Because you need it.”

“You look exhausted, old man.” Mirroring his previous actions, I covered his forehead with my hand. He didn’t lean into it that time, though. He just slumped into the bed beside me, curling into a ball at my side.

“I _really_ am,” he admitted.

It was a rare thing to hear, and so I wasn’t going to try and convince him to stay up for my sake. I would finish the drink he’d made and simply enjoy the way it felt to have my boyfriend clinging on to me like a magnet.

“Go to sleep,” I basically ordered, following it up with a much nicer, “and let’s sleep in _all_ morning.” Then, deciding that was too nice, I tacked on, “I’ll even let you make me more hot chocolate.”

Spencer’s laughter shook both of our bodies, and I pulled him even closer. Like the few inches would help the sound last longer in my memory.

“How are you feeling? Seriously,” he asked again, looking up at me through half-lidded eyes that barely kept open through his yawn.

“I’m fine. Just like I told you I was.”

“Okay,” he conceded hesitantly, “Tell me if that changes.”

“Promise,” I said, letting my hand run through his hair and enjoying the way his whole body wiggled from the attention. He looked up at me from his position with his head resting against my heart just as the goosebumps spread over his skin.

I almost let him off the hook. I almost let him drift off to sleep then, but that look he flashed me filled me with such an undeniable, uncontrollable love that I couldn’t let him forget the very order he’d given me.

“You owe me more kisses, you know.”

We didn’t keep count, but I was certain we passed ten by the time we both fell asleep.

——

There was nothing quite like being woken up by the horrible buzzing of Spencer’s phone. I understood that the whole point of having the ringtone and vibration set to be so loud was precisely to be annoying enough that it couldn’t be ignored, but it didn’t mean I had to like it. Especially not that morning.

I barely remembered the night before, still stuck in a sleepy haze, but I was able to recognize that, for whatever reason, his phone was on my side of the bed.

“No! It’s Saturday!” I whined, tossing in the bed so I could throw my arms over him, “That’s not fair!”

“I know. Life isn’t fair,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes and mostly ignoring me as I draped over him. “Give me my phone.”

Glancing back at the offending device, I noticed for the first time just how hard my heart was beating. Not only was it loud in my ears, but it also caused a vague discomfort in my stomach.

“Do you really have to answer?” I asked quietly.

“You know I do,” he responded in that stern tone of voice that never accompanied anything fun. 

I relented, taking his phone gently and handing it to him without another word. He stayed in bed for a second longer, his hand running over his face to try and wipe the exhaustion off. I watched him from my position shrunk under the covers.

When he finally put the phone down, he sighed, “Shit. I have to go.”

Spencer sat up so quickly that my hands that were settled on his stomach slid from their spot before I could try to hold him tighter. The chilly morning air caused goosebumps to burst all over me, but I ignored the chattering of my teeth as I threw my entire body over him.

“Wait!”

To his credit, he didn’t really try to fight it. With another heavy sigh, he dropped his body back onto the bed and closed his eyes. I could feel the annoyance quickly building, but I suppressed the sadness it caused. I tried to stay lighthearted, leaning over him with a soft plea, “Kiss me before you go.”

“I know that voice,” he warned, sitting up and grabbing hold of me. For a split second, I thought I might get what I wanted, but then he just picked me up, plopping me back down onto the bed beside him.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I could feel my pulse just as hard there. It felt like I was suffocating on the words that couldn’t make their way out. In fact, everything about the situation felt bizarre— like there were some invisible high stakes. Like I needed Spencer to look at me and touch me or else I might actually shatter to pieces in my bed.

The bed that he was leaving.

Jumping up from my spot, I threw myself at him for the second time that morning. I caught onto his arm with a heavy enough grip that I almost succeeded in forcibly dragging him back into the bed. 

“Come on! It won’t take that long,” I appealed, my voice growing more frantic with every syllable, “If you’re going to leave for god knows how long, they can wait an extra... 15 minutes!”

There was no pause or sympathy when he replied, “Cut it out.” He just pried my hand off his arm and continued on his way through the rushed version of his morning routine.

“What are they going to do? Leave without you?” I called.

“Yeah, they might.”

I was getting nowhere. I didn’t even really know why I was so persistent, but the only words that were forcing their way through the blockage in my throat were words I didn’t want to say. They were words that made me feel weak and clingy and stupid. I knew he could hear it in my voice, too, although to him I’m sure it sounded more like my normal whining.

“So let them leave,” I mumbled, dragging myself from the bed and padding over to him as he threw on a shirt. “Then we would have plenty more time.”

Spotting my next move in the mirror, Spencer placed a forceful hand on my chest to stop me from wrapping my arms around him. “Stop it, (y/n),” he said slowly and lowly, “I am not playing with you. I don’t have time for this.”

A chill ran down my spine that was immediately replaced with a burning heat in my face. I wasn’t blushing, and I wasn’t angry. It was a terrible, horrible, indescribable feeling. The feeling of being forgotten.

But that wasn’t fair, was it? He was just trying to go to work, so why did I feel so empty? It wouldn’t be the first time the BAU had interrupted our plans.

“I just want to be helpful,” I muttered under my breath.

Spencer had already looked away. 

“Then get back in bed.”

I looked over at the disrupted covers and had the sinking realization that no amount of comfort items would make me feel better. The very idea of returning to his bed without him brought honest to god tears to my eyes.

“B-But if I do that then you’re going to leave me,” I blubbered. I’d never felt more pathetic. My boyfriend was almost at the end of his patience, and my hands were still clinging to his shirt and leaving even more frustrating wrinkles in the fabric. 

“Well, I’m doing that either way, so you might as well not throw a tantrum.”

He wasn’t wrong. If I’d taken a step back and looked at myself, I would have seen how ridiculous I was being. My brain was screaming at me to let him go, to just climb into bed and cry by myself until I got over it. It wouldn’t take that long, right?

But I’d never felt like that before. I’d never wanted to cry like that before.

“Please don’t leave me,” I whispered into the sleeve of his shirt before he gently nudged me away again.

“What?” he said with a tired sigh, “I can’t hear you when you whine like that. Please just get back in bed. I know you’re tired.”

I stared at his profile, recognizing the exhaustion clear in his eyes that could barely stay open. His jaw was clenched shut, and his hands were sluggish. He was tired, and it was all my fault. I’d kept him up taking care of me, and now I was making his morning worse, too.

I didn’t know how to make it better. I didn’t know what to say or do to show him that I appreciated him, but that there was something else inside of me trying to break its way out. It was working, too, as the sadness started to pool in my eyes. I buried my face into his back, my arms wrapping around him and halting his movements again.

It was the last straw for an exhausted, annoyed Spencer. Pulling my arms off him, he finally turned to face me. His hair was still ruffled and his voice crackly from the interrupted sleep.

“What has gotten into you?!” he shouted, unable to control his crankiness any more than I could control what happened next.

“I don’t know!” I yelled.

His eyes went wide as I crumpled forward, sobs taking up all of my breath as I covered his shirt with tears. I clung to him tighter than I had all morning, giving everything to the last attempt to stop him.

“I just really, _really_ don’t want you to leave!”

Spencer became absolutely panicked, his arms wrapping around me faster and tighter than I thought he would be capable of in the current state.

“Oh, little girl,” he cooed, stopping me from falling to the ground with a bit of a chuckle. He clearly didn’t mean to laugh at me, it was more like one of those self-deprecating laughs he gave when he realized how stupid he was being. But he wasn’t being stupid, I was.

So why was he being so nice?

“I didn’t realize, I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my hair. He began gentle strokes along my back while the two of us moved back to the bed. He waited until I stumbled backwards and took my seat before he looked at me.

With all the tenderness he could muster on an early Saturday morning, he swept my messy hair from my face and told me, “I’m not mad at you.”

“What’s wr-wrong with me?” I sniffled and choked, not even bothering to clean my face. His hands were already busy trying to wipe away the tears.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with you.”

I almost believed him. He let out a soft, stuttered breath before he kissed me. Then, as he had before, he kissed me again, and again, and again. He kept laying the tiny pecks all over my lips and cheeks until I was able to flash him a half-hearted smile.

“This is totally normal and it’s going to be okay,” he assured with one final kiss on the lips.

It felt like things were going to be okay when it was just the two of us. But then Spencer looked down at his watch, and the rest of the world joined us in his room. It was too small for everyone to fit.

“I’m going to get you in trouble,” I whined as the tears sprouted anew, “This is so stupid! I’m being so _stupid_!”

“Stop that. You’re not stupid.”

Then, with perfect timing, that horrible ringing of his phone was all I could hear.

“Shit!” he cursed under his breath, pulling the phone from his pocket. Even though Spencer didn’t point out to me exactly what was happening, it was clear that he thought it was serious enough to consider the one thing he was so dead-set against a few minutes earlier. He looked down at his phone that was still ringing, then back up to me.

“Just go. I’ll be okay,” I said with as much confidence as possible under the circumstances.

It didn’t work. 

“No, you won’t,” he corrected. There was a pang of guilt present in all his features that was only getting worse. Before I knew it, he had his arms around me. “This is my fault, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine,” I laughed, my mind already trying to find a way to shove the sadness down long enough that I could see him off with a smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”

Spencer laughed, too, although it was obvious that he didn’t buy my usual act. I’d blame it on the therapy that I’d started to attend, but the truth was he’d noticed my tells long before that. He was just willing to ignore them up to a point. This, clearly, did not qualify.

“No, I’m not doing that to you.”

He didn’t say anything else before he stepped away. He let our fingers linger together until they couldn’t reach anymore. Even that made me miss him, despite him barely standing a few feet away. I figured he didn’t want me to hear the other half of the conversation. So, I just sat there, crossing my legs with my hands between them and trying not to look as embarrassed as I felt.

“Can I—“ he muttered into the receiver. I didn’t meet his eyes, and soon heard him continue more confidently, “I’ll meet you there. I’ll take a commercial flight.”

My body perked up at the implication, and a dopey smile covered my face as I realized just what he was sacrificing for me. But then any sign of happiness was crushed by the guilt that immediately followed. He had shirked off so much of his job for me. I was just always this big, annoying inconvenience. He was important, and I was monopolizing his mind and his time just so he could wipe away my tears.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said before clearing his throat, “And uh, Hotch? I don’t need a room. I’ll get my own. Yeah, everything is fine. I’ll explain when I get there... Alright, bye.”

“What are you do—?” I started the second he hung up the phone, but Spencer shook his head, raising his hand to cut me off.

“Come with me,” he said, rushed and exasperated.

After a brief moment of silence, I laughed. I figured it had to be a joke, or some offer I was always meant to deny. But when he just kept staring expectantly, hopefully, I blubbered back, “W-what?”

“Come with me, on the case,” he repeated with a scrunched up smile, “I want you to come with me.”

“Can you even do that?” I asked cautiously, covering my chest with my arm. I think he could see how badly I wanted to do it, but he had to realize how uncomfortable the request made me at the same time. I mean, how would he explain it to the team? Would he keep me a secret? What was I meant to do while they were working?

Spencer saw the questions rolling through my head. He came back to me, his hands cupping my face and making me look up at him. “I don’t care,” he whispered, “I won’t leave you like this. I can’t do that.”

I inspected his face for a long while. I let the silence settle over us and tried to find a reason to say no. I searched for the courage to say no and the stubbornness I used to have. But then my mind flashed back to the only arguments we’d had. They always revolved around this, around our insistence that we handle things alone.

_Why?_ I reminded myself, _I’m not alone. I don’t have to be alone_.

So, with a trembling lip, I mumbled, “O-okay.”

“Okay,” he returned. And for a second, the tension melted from him. Closing his eyes, Spencer let out a deep breath and pulled me closer in a small hug that didn’t last long enough. But once it was over, I realized why. He had practically dragged me off the bed by both hands, guiding me over to my closet and pulling out my barely-used suitcase.

“Hurry up and pack a bag for at least five days. Anything you forget we can just get there.”

I nodded, releasing his hands yet again. Except this time, it wasn’t a goodbye. It was something entirely different. It was taking another step into the future with Spencer Reid. It was thrilling and strange and welcome.

_Welcome_ , I repeated in my mind. It wasn’t a word I would have used comfortably before. As I packed my bag, I felt my boyfriend glancing over at me every few seconds. Like he was waiting to see how I assimilated into his life. I found myself hoping that I was passing the test, although I knew this wouldn’t ever be a normal occurrence.

“Are you ready?” he asked. The question brought another heavy feeling into my stomach, but this time it wasn’t necessarily a bad one. I looked down at the suitcase in my hands, and then back up to him.

_Am I ready?_ The question was meant to be about our impromptu trip; I knew that was all he meant. But as I stood there contemplating a future with Spencer Reid, I asked myself if I was ready for a number of things I hadn’t ever seriously considered.

_Am I ready?_ I prompted myself again.

“Yeah,” I said with a relieved sigh, “Yeah, I think I am.”


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are changing for the better.

The dulcet, bustling sounds of the Dulles International Airport were more soothing than I expected. Normally, the massive crowds and constant barrage of information would make my brain go into overdrive, but there was something about Spencer being there that made it all turn to white noise. If I had to guess, I would say it was the feeling of trusting someone to take care of you.

I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Hey, I got you something.”

Even then, when he’d approached me from behind and gingerly placed the bag on my lap, I barely even flinched. I smelled the contents of the bag before I noticed the logo or managed to open it, but once I confirmed it was what I thought it was, my eyes immediately teared up.

“Oh my god,” I keened, pulling out the familiar blue cup holding a much too sweet, much too large cinnamon bun. Although my mind was running with a million things to say to express just how appreciative I was, I took a bite out of it before I said anything else.

“I love you _so_ much,” I mumbled around a mouth full of pastry.

Spencer tried to respond, but after one glance at me, fingers and face already covered in frosting after only a few seconds, he burst out laughing. 

“You’re a _complete_ mess,” he chastised, trying to cluck his tongue but failing in his laughter.

I just smiled back, not even bothering with the plastic utensils and enjoying the indulgence with absolutely childlike joy. It wasn’t even just the sugar or my fingers pressing into the warm, sticky dough that made the morning seem so much better; it was the way Spencer watched me.

With one arm leaned against the chair, his whole body was turned towards me. It was clear from the slightly glassy look in his exhausted eyes that he was also stuck trying to find the right words to say to express just how grateful he was that we could still have moments like that.

Those same eyes roamed over my figure with such an overtly intimate gleam that it almost made me blush. If he’d touched me, I definitely would have. But he kept his hands to himself, and eventually, buried them into his carry-on bag. I didn’t even look at what he was doing, too lost in the sweetness of being cared for.

That foolhardy trust was a mistake. Because, it turned out, Spencer Reid was a _monster_.

Without any warning at all, a cold wet wipe was dragged over my cheeks. I flinched back, only to find Spencer’s hand holding onto my head and stopping me from turning away. The madman even had the audacity to smile as he gingerly wiped the frosting from my cheeks and chin. Of course, considering the fact I was thrashing wildly away from him, it ended up mostly on my lips.

“Pfftbtb! Spencer!” I spit and whined, earning confused looks from basically everyone in the vicinity. What they would find when they looked over was him in a fit of laughter, continuing to try and clean my face, which was still covered in sugary frosting despite his best efforts to remove it.

“I thought you enjoyed the taste of alcohol,” he teased.

“First of all, no one does, and second—” I started, only to be cut off with a kiss over my much too clean mouth. I smiled, but only because it used to be my move. I wondered when exactly the tables had turned, and it became his job to shut me up with a kiss.

“I know,” he whispered, licking his lips just to cringe at the taste he’d forced on me, “I’m just joking.”

I decided then that the sight and shared disgust for ethyl alcohol were enough for me to forgive him for the time being. I let him clean the rest of the evidence of my greed from my face but decided to clean my fingers myself. I popped each one into my mouth in what I’d imagined was a very non-sexual manner, but Spencer still seemed to enjoy watching me as each digit was cleaned. Granted, he handed me another wipe seconds later. Damn germaphobe. Like he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth on a daily basis.

The rest of the treat was shared between us, with utensils this time, in a relative quiet. Brief giggles or sighs were all there was to be said. Once there was nothing left to fixate on, I was left only with my thoughts and Spencer’s eyes that still watched me like a horribly affectionate hawk.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled without realizing. I’d almost hoped he wouldn’t even hear it, or let it go without a conversation, but of course, he couldn’t do that.

“For what?”

“For making you do all of this,” I explained with a heavy sigh, “I feel like a big baby.”

Spencer’s hands came to brush away the stray strands of hairs from my face. They weren’t actually in the way of anything; I think he just wanted to make a better view. That alone was enough to make me smile, but that only seemed to make him feel guilty.

“Don’t apologize for this. This is my fault,” he said just as quietly. I mirrored his motion, running my fingers through his hair and watching as his mouth dropped open in a pleased smile.

“No, it’s not. You’re wonderful,” I said through my own. It was only a little bit sadder than his, but wasn’t that usually the case? I could only imagine what would happen the day we were both overflowing with nothing but joy. Before, that thought might lead me back to the bank, the place that ended our last purely happy encounter, but…

I looked at Spencer, with his mouth still slightly open and his head lolling back and forth with the little weight of my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything bad. So I just thought of the picnic, instead. I thought of him licking my hand as we rolled in grass, and of his own hands working through my hair to make it into something besides a mess on my head.

I looked at Spencer, and I saw beautiful things. And the longer I played with his hair, the more relaxed and content he became. Of course, I would never be satisfied. His smile was the most beautiful thing to see, and I needed it to deal with the guilt still sitting like rocks in my stomach.

“Besides, it’ll be so much easier putting down my work and actually getting sleep when you’re waiting for me,” Spencer slurred, his neck relaxing to drop the weight of his head against my palm.

“I hope not too easy. The world needs you, Dr. Reid,” I kindly reminded.

His eyes fluttered open, trapping me in dark honey irises filled with pure adoration. “You need me, too,” he whispered.

“Arrogant bastard.”

Naturally, he took it as a compliment, his smile growing into a smirk as he answered, “A little bit.”

He should have known better than to give me that look, though, because within seconds my hands fell from his hair. A small whimper came from the pitiful man at the loss. It was quickly followed by a sharp inhale when my hand grabbed his thigh.

“You think I’ll actually let you sleep?” I whispered.

Aside from the obviously tense quadriceps beneath my palms, Spencer showed very little response to my suggestion. Well, rather, he showed little arousal to it. There was a reaction— just not the one I expected.

He looked… nervous.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that…”

“What?” I shot back immediately, my hands withdrawing and tugging on my shirt while I instinctively tried to hide from him. I was trying to look less guilty, but I was acutely aware that my actions screamed the opposite. So, I tried to combat my obvious anxiety with a voice that was far louder than it needed to be. “I swear I’m on all my medications. I haven’t missed a single therapy appointment, either!”

Spencer’s hands were gentle and cautious when they came to my wrists, gently pulling them away from my chest. “I know. I trust you,” he said with a sad but still genuine smile, “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted to handle this.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of me in the least convincing manner. Spencer was too smart to fall for them, although I could see a playfulness bloom through his features.

“No offense, but you just cried over a cinnamon bun,” he said, unable to stop a few chuckles from mixing with the words.

“It was just really good, okay?” I scoffed, tearing my hands away from him and feigning offense despite his little disclaimer. From there, I sank down in the shitty airport chair and refused to look up at him. I could still feel his cheeky, arrogant little grin watching me.

Eventually, after I thought we’d suffered enough and I could already feel my legs going numb, I weakly conceded, “Fine. What are my options?”

“Well, basically anything. But the main thing to consider is…”

He paused. It was one of the sure signs that he was taking the situation _very_ seriously. Usually, he would just spout out whatever came to mind and sort out the details later. But this time, he spoke slowly and purposefully. “Majority of our relationship has been based on physicality. Whether it was sex or healing or hurting and I… I want to give you the option to not do that. At least, not for a little while.”

A feeling of dread filled my blood that I could suddenly hear rushing through my ears. I didn’t tell my heart to beat faster, but it did. My hands that had once again crossed over my chest suddenly itched to hold him.

“Why would I not want to?” I asked, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt and occasionally glancing up at him only to realize that he wasn’t looking at me, either. I tried not to read into it. After all, he was the profiler— not me.

“It’s not a matter of a _voiding_ it. I just need you to know it’s not expected of you.”

Without shifting my body at all, my eyes were glued to him. The strain of the angle and the sound of those words caused them to burn, but I refused to let tears fall again. He wasn’t rejecting me, right? He was telling me that he loved me. There was no reason to be scared.

I wasn’t used to that yet, either. But I wanted to be. And judging by the way his hand cupped my face and guided it back to his, I think Spencer felt those anxieties. He tried to will them away by pressing his forehead against mine and letting his thumb ghost over flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be scared. I just need you to know that we don’t have to have sex for you to be worth my time and attention.”

The tears grew bigger under his scrutiny, but they didn’t fall until he closed his eyes. I think that was why he did.

“I love you,” he assured me with a whisper, “I’m not going to deny you affection or intimacy if that’s what you want. I just need you to know that it is always an option.”

Normally when Spencer pulled away, the air felt cold in his absence. For so long, my body had felt lonelier and less than without him. But in that busy, bustling airport, I felt just as loved even when his hands fell away and he sat back up in his chair.

For those who might’ve been watching, they would just see two lovesick idiots whispering sweet nothings in a flagrantly public display of affection. They wouldn’t have heard the weight of the words or felt the way my perception of the whole world shifted from them.

Spencer smiled again, still nervous, but also clear and authentic.

“I’m sorry,” he told me with his eyes fixated on my hands in my lap. He made no move to hold it, although I could tell he wanted to. I suspect he wanted me to focus on the words, so I tried my hardest. I almost asked him what he was sorry for, but he answered first, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

A lump quickly formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. When that failed, and I felt the telltale signs of tears filling the sides of my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of to hide. I threw my arms around the only thing that never failed to make them better. I buried my face in Spencer’s neck and laughed along with him as my eyelashes and breath tickled the soft skin.

After a brief second of listening to our hearts settle into a matching rhythm and letting our body heat sink into the clothes between us, Spencer groaned, “How are you _still_ sticky?”

——————

A couple weeks prior, the thought of being alone in a hotel room waiting on Spencer to finish work for the day would have instilled the fear of God in me. I would have done just about anything to avoid the exact situation I found myself in now.

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. It was the perfect opportunity for me to force myself to slow down. Granted, that mostly just meant that I would watch bad TV in a bathrobe with overpriced food, but… like they say, change is as good as a rest.

The hardest part about it was actually just convincing myself that I deserved the rest. While I was taking naps and trying to do anything to unwind, I knew what Spencer was doing.

Well, I had some idea of what he was doing. Reality was probably worse than my imagination— it usually was with his job. At first, I had let that guilt get in the way, but at some point over the nine hours, I realized that I would have to find a way to cheer myself up. Because as soon as I heard that small beep of the keycard, I would have to find a way to remind him of all the beautiful things in the world.

No pressure, right?

The sun had already started to set, and I hadn’t heard from him in hours. We’d started the day out with a constant line of contact, but over time he became too busy. Which, again, just meant that I would have to work even harder when he finally arrived.

Luckily for me, by the time Spencer had arrived, there was no need for a pep talk or acting of any kind. My heart immediately started to race the second I heard his voice down the hall. I had already bolted from the bed and positioned myself just far enough from the door that I could jump forward the second it opened far enough to fit me.

And when it did, I pounced. 

“Spencer!” I cheered, throwing myself into his arms that had fully been expecting me. Still, the two of us crashed back against the frame and I heard the breath be knocked out of him from the impact.

“Hey, little girl,” he managed to laugh with empty lungs that made it impossible to forget how tired he was. His arm eventually settled at my lower back, lifting me slightly so he could move us from the door’s path. But when we were out of harm’s way and the latch clicked softly in place, Spencer didn’t let me go. In fact, he tossed his bag into the chair at the desk and wrapped his other arm around me, too.

“How was work?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“You know…” he muttered with a crackling voice, “ _awful_.”

If that hadn’t given it away, the way he buried his face in my neck certainly did. His hands were even more insistent, pressing into my back as he led us both to the bed.

I had to laugh, though, as the realization dawned on him that he’d have to let go of me if he didn’t want to track filthy shoes in our bed. A heavy sigh fell from his lips when he finally released me, practically throwing me onto the terrible mattress before taking his seat next to me.

“I missed you,” I announced in the ambient noise of the cheapest hotel that the government could justify using. 

Spencer looked up at me, but the words took a little longer to register. I could only imagine how busy his mind must’ve been, and the guilt quickly came creeping back.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, albeit with a tint of sadness in his tone. But the longer we stayed there, the calmer he seemed. It was such a powerful effect of our proximity that by the time he did lay down next to me, he seemed like the man that had wiped frosting from my face in the middle of a busy airport.

Spencer must have noticed the shift, too, because no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he had flipped over, throwing his leg over me to pin me down against the bed.

My initial reaction was to keep laughing, but the noises were muffled by the persistent kisses he gave. They started at my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose but landed on my lips. I felt the tension leave his shoulders as he lowered more of his body weight against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his presence.

“God, I needed this,” he growled just before his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Everything we’d talked about at the airport felt a lifetime away, and as soon as I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh, I only had one goal in mind. I forced my hands between us, trying to remove his tie with the hope that it would shed some of the thoughts he’d brought back from work.

But then it all stopped. Spencer had pulled away, grabbing onto my wrist and pinning it to the bed beside me once more.

“No, we don’t need to do that. I just wanted to kiss you,” he panted through heavy breath and swollen lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them long enough to answer, but it was clear from the look on his face that any plea I gave would be for naught, anyway. “I’m honestly way too exhausted to give you the attention you deserve.”

I believed him. Even when he hadn’t slept for nearly two days, he still looked livelier then. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with sleep and more to do with emotions. I wanted to help him with that, too, like he did for me, but I didn’t know how. So, I did the only thing I did know how to do well, which was to place a soft peck against his lips until they turned up into another smile.

“Get some rest, old man,” I murmured, “I’ll be here to kiss again when you wake up.”

“Let me hold you,” he answered immediately, nuzzling his face against my neck like a puppy seeking any shred of attention. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because of the way his hair tickled or because it was so strange to see him so vulnerable while still in dominant, albeit disheveled, work clothes.

“Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

Continuing the trend of being remarkably adorable, Spencer giggled as he rolled onto his side. I was almost tempted to turn towards him, but he had already wrapped his arms around me before I could decide. He pulled me as close as he could before his lips once again settled against the column of my throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he stated absently. It was so quiet that I’m not sure he’d actually planned on me hearing it. But when I reached a hand up to run through his hair, he spoke with a shaky, relieved whine, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

A gentle, warm exhale breezed over my skin as he continued, “I love you so much.”

From that point, any words he might’ve whispered were muffled through sloppy, sleepy kisses over my neck and shoulder. His hands, though slow, were still rough and purposeful as they pawed at me in a way that was only vaguely sexual. It was more like he was trying to prove to himself that he was actually here with me, and my breasts just happened to be the first thing he could grab.

That still didn’t stop my mind from running wild. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I focused on the way his breath felt against areas still wet from his kisses. And when I arched my back, I felt his hips press harder.

Eventually, when I could trust myself to speak without whimpering, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to…”

I peeked back at him before continuing, having noticed a lull in his kisses. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, his lips still attached to my shoulder. I had to chuckle at the sight, but my heart did hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must have been to fall asleep then, and still in his clothes, much less.

The guilt over being the main cause of his tiredness was enough to keep me still for at least two hours. I spent that time slowly inching to a more comfortable position, only to be squished seconds later by Spencer. Even in his sleep, it seemed he was terrified of the prospect of me slipping from his arms. He was just being dramatic, though. It’s not like I had anywhere to go.

Wait, that sounded wrong. Truthfully, there were many places I could go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with Spencer, tangled in his long limbs and tickled by his hair that had grown long enough to gracelessly flop onto my face regardless of position.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to leave at all.

But I did. Inch by inch, I carefully slipped from Spencer’s arms. Against all odds, I managed to maneuver through the death grip he had on me and plop down on the ground beside the bed. My mind found that to be the perfect time to recall the lecture he’d given me about how suitcases, and more specifically, their wheels, were the most dangerous bacteria-laden aspects of traveling, but I dismissed the thought shortly after I stood again.

I didn’t want to leave Spencer’s embrace. I’m not really sure why I did. There wasn’t even really a particularly angsty reasoning for it. I just had this feeling, this tingling on my skin and a weight in my stomach that told me I was meant to be doing something different.

The only problem was that I had literally no idea what the fuck that something different was.

So, naturally, I did what every young child does when their parents had grown tired of their restless children jumping on the hotel bed. I grabbed the keycard and the ice bucket and set out on a very thrilling journey to find the vending room. The first part was the hardest. It was shutting the door to return the room to darkness, knowing that Spencer was alone in bed.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. I slipped from the room into the horrible yellow lighting of the halls with the dizzying wallpaper and patterned carpet without another thought. I’d hoped that the walk might bring me answers to the mood I was currently wrestling with, but I was wrong. Because it basically only took me three doors to find the room that I was looking for.

Great.

I threw the door open haphazardly, actually contemplating grabbing the ice and returning to bed no wiser than I had left it. But when the door swung shut behind me, the humming from the machines bled into my brain and started to cover all the other thoughts. It was warmer than my room, as well as smaller and quieter. Of course, it was also remarkably less private, but it was also like 2am. If someone came in to find a strange girl sitting on the floor next to the ice machine, that was their own fault.

In a strange way, it was the most peaceful I’d been in a long time. As much as I loved being with Spencer, these circumstances made it hard for me to not feel like I didn’t belong. Probably because I didn’t. He was here on work, a life that he’d tried very hard to keep away from me. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I was sure he’d gotten a number of questions from Morgan and Garcia about my presence, but he hadn’t shared them with me. I’d even asked him, just so I could concoct my own retaliatory questions for the nosiest of them, but he just laughed the question away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just the realization that Spencer had a life of his own and I was just starting to see it for the first time. I was learning so much about him and honestly… None of it was bad. Most of it was just downright silly. Things like prank wars and physics magic and careful, chemistry-based improvements to shitty coffee. I was just too busy realizing that I was falling even more in love with Spencer to notice anything else.

Including, apparently, the sound of the door to the room opening. Trust me when I say that was saying a lot; the presence of Aaron Hotchner was not easy to miss.

“Can I join you?” His voice filled the room despite its low volume, and I followed the sound with a small smile that grew at the sight of him in casual clothing. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it sure did make him less intimidating than our previous encounters.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled the still-empty ice bucket into my lap. Once he took his seat beside me, I rolled my head toward him to try and figure out what exactly he had planned. But after another few seconds of silence, I realized that he was doing the same thing I was.

Improvising.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, insistent that it wasn’t my job in this scenario to come up with the advice.

Hotch seemed equally lost, and with a slight shake of his head, he explained, “I only heard the door open once. Figured it was worth a trip to get some ice to check.”

He held up his matching ice bucket, to which I lifted mine to knock together like the worst kind of toast. It at least succeeded in making him laugh, although the sound was short-lived. We both recognized the shoddy attempt at humor was just masking the things I didn’t want to talk about.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

He had never really been a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy.

“Freakin’ profilers,” I affectionately muttered back, which only earned me a playful warning glance that I, for once, didn’t choose to ignore. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s probably the 3-hour nap I took when we got here.”

Then, deciding that still didn’t describe the situation well enough, I tagged on, “You know, while you all were working and saving the world and what not.”

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of the BAU: Do not ever speak poorly about yourself. Not even an implication.

“Rest is important. No reason for you to suffer for us,” he returned without pause.

“You sound like Spencer,” I said through a half-hearted laugh. 

Hotch shared my laughter, causing them both to grow in volume as he snarkily replied, “And who do you think taught him?”

“Right. Sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender, but we both knew it would be harder than that.

But that was okay. He came prepared.

“So, what else is wrong?”

“So persistent, you lot,” I chuckled. I half expected him to let it go, but he just turned to stare at me with that usually stoic face contorted with an obvious reprimand. I swear, I didn’t even realize his eyebrows could move that far. But there were, raised up his forehead as his cheeks dimpled from his little, knowing smirk.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Just thinking about things and I was scared I would wake up Spencer. Like he would feel my anxiety in his sleep.”

“What’s making you anxious?”

I paused. For a moment, I thought about lying. Not the kind of transparent lie that you do when you say that everything is fine. The kind of lie that also contained the truth. There were many things that had happened lately that would explain my anxiety, and they would be believable enough because I did still feel them.

“Everything. You know. The usual,” I said softly, attempting to stall.

Because that wasn’t what the problem was that day. The problems that day were… complicated in a different way than the usual angst. So, I let the thoughts marinate for a moment, considering the different outcomes and deciding which I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself want things in a while. Maybe that realization was why I decided to just tell him the truth, despite how embarrassing it felt.

“It’s not bad anxiety, necessarily. It’s just this realization that… I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” he pressed, feeling the hesitance as I stood at the brink of what I really wanted to say. The real answer to why I was sitting on the floor of an ice machine vending room with my boyfriend’s boss, who also happened to be our shared adoptive father figure.

I took a deep breath, clutching onto the ice bucket so tightly that my knuckles blanched and the edges imprinted on my hand until I blurted out, “That I think I’m ready for something else. Something more.”

We both stopped then, enjoying the noises of machinery and the barely-there echo of my words.

“Something more, huh?” he repeated more clearly.

I didn’t appreciate the way the words were practically sung through a clever grin, and before he could take that train of thought any further, I stopped him with an answer too loud to not be deemed defensive.

“Not like that! Not like, let’s run off and elope and have lots of babies tomorrow!“ He didn’t look convinced, so I continued with a much more believable promise. “Don’t worry, I’m not sniping your genius.”

“Thank goodness,” he replied sarcastically. I appreciated his ability to keep things lighthearted, and for a second I did have to laugh at the fact he was such a different person when he wasn’t at work. He must’ve taught Spencer more than I realized. And, in turn, Spencer was teaching me. I just wasn’t sure when the lesson would be over, or if it had already ended.

“I’ve just held onto my independence and this… heavy bullshit for so long, and I’m a little worried about what that means,” I thought aloud.

Again, Hotch had read my mind, or at least, my body language, and demanded the answer he saw written across my features. “What do you think it means?”

“Do you always give fatherly advice like this to whiny girls in ice machine rooms?” I shot back with my first attempt at a glare. It only lasted until he flashed me a toothy smile and his own clever retort.

“No. Now answer the question.”

“I had to try,” I grumbled, only to be shut down again in an instant.

“I’ll forgive you when you answer.”

With a begrudging sigh, I tried to do what he asked. But I only barely got through one word before they turned to a lump in my throat. I choked on the words strongly enough that tears I hadn’t anticipated began pooling on my eyelashes. The power of a profiler, I guess, to know I was on the verge of an emotional catharsis before I did.

“I know we all change. I know that no one stays the same. We all go through things and they change who we are. And that can be good, right? But…”

Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop, turning and tumbling from clumsy lips still chapped from incessant biting. But teeth and willpower couldn’t stop the feelings that caused them, and if Spencer had taught me anything, he’d taught me that speaking a feeling into existence was half of the battle to let it go.

“But sometimes it’s gotta just be bad, right? Like, we’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes we change in an irreparable way that’s just bad for no reason.”

“Right,” he very eloquently returned. Normally, I would have bullied him for giving such a simple response to such a complex question, but at that moment I was just grateful that I could continue. Heaven knows Spencer wouldn’t have let me.

“So, what if that happened to me? What if one day I wake up and finally find out the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself?”

When I turned to the man then, I saw a genuine confusion for the first time that night. I couldn’t tell you where I’d lost him, but it was clear that he heard something in me that alerted him that some deeper rooted issues were just now finding the light of day.

Of course, in this situation, it was really just a flickering fluorescent bulb.

“What question is that?” he whispered, like his voice would intrude in the thoughts.

But the truth was they didn’t feel like they belonged to me, either. That was the problem. I’d spent so long with memories that felt like a dream. I saw them playback when I closed my eyes, just to open them and find the same images reflecting in Spencer’s. I knew they were real because they were written into my skin, yet my mind rioted against them so hard that instead, I just started to think that this body wasn’t mine, either.

“How much of me died that day?”

The question sat with us, taking form in the reflection on the metallic surface that hummed a somehow somber tune. And even though I knew I was looking at myself, it didn’t feel that way. When I saw Hotch move in the background, I turned to him just in time to feel his hand resting over mine on the metal pail in my hands.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

I felt the warmth flow through him, bringing life back into a hand that suddenly started to feel like me again. His voice shared the same rejuvenating quality as he quietly but confidently answered, “I think… it’s much less than you think.”

As tears slid down my face, they felt less like the beginning of a downpour and more like the drizzle that follows the storm. I let them fall without wiping them away, hoping that as they fell away, they would take the fear with them.

After they did drip from my jaw, I laughed. I couldn’t hold it in because it seemed so silly how much lighter I felt after losing just a few droplets of saline. But, realistically, I knew it had more to do with his hand still holding mine.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, selfishly stealing his body warmth as I croaked, “Thanks for talking to me. I know I must sound like a stupid kid to you sometimes.”

“Not at all,” he said with that tone that was difficult to discount, “You sound just like you should.”

“Can I tell you something now?” I asked between sniffles.

“I’d like that,” he mirrored.

“You’re like… a really good dad.”

It was his turn to shed tears, then, which he did. They were much manlier and less silly than mine, but they were there. I almost accused him of creating them just to make me feel less embarrassed, but before I could, he’d enveloped me in a hug that was way too genuine to question it.

As I hugged him back, I realized just how badly I’d missed moments like this. I’d fooled myself into really believing that loneliness and independence were the same things for so long that when I was granted the support all human beings need, I didn’t know how to respond.

But that was the beauty of family, right? You don’t have to try to earn their love. They already thought you were worthy.

So I hugged him harder, ignoring the clanking of the machines and the sounds of crowds of people stumbling back from bars in the hall that could walk in any moment. I wasn’t embarrassed to be sad anymore. I was just a person. It happens sometimes.

“Speaking of, it’s well past your bedtime,” Hotch said finally, gracelessly shattering the moment in a very dad-like fashion.

“I walked into that one.”

Following that trend, he continued with a gentle bump of his shoulder against me, “If you don’t want to go yet, you can talk to me about that something more.”

I practically shoved him off me, huffing between chuckles and shaking my head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice how it flushed.

“Please. Spencer talks about that stuff, but he’s all talk.”

At first, Hotch just nodded. But after a few wayward glances, he confessed, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

That time the warmth I felt came from within, carried by butterflies that had burst in my stomach at the thought. I almost asked him what he meant, but then felt the familiar, creeping embarrassment that came along with loving someone a little too much.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

I knew he was reading my expressions, but I couldn’t hide the smile, no matter how hard I tried. He still had the decency to ignore my blatant displays of excitement, instead asking the question we both knew the answer to already.

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I…” Such a simple syllable still seemed like too much, and I stuttered it a few more times before I landed on an answer that wasn’t too humiliating. “I guess he’ll have to ask and find out.”

“I hope it turns out well when he does,” he said, pausing to correct with a sarcastic, “Sorry. _If_ he does.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed heavily. It was a last ditch effort to hide the way my cheeks were still stuck in a full-faced smile. I turned to see him with a very similar expression.

I knew just how to change that. When he stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and let him do half the work for me. But once we were on equal footing, I placed my hand on his shoulder with a complacent pat.

“You know, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ll have to figure out how to comfort the both of us.”

“The _horror_ ,” he jokingly cringed with a shake of his head.

I almost left then, but thankfully he’d remembered the actual purpose for the room we’d had our impromptu surrogate-father-daughter moment in. He grabbed my ice pail from my hand and dropped it under the dispenser without saying anything else, letting the chaotic crunching signal the real end of the moment.

Once it was over, I looked down at the now freezing bucket in my hands that suddenly felt warm. Then I looked back up at him and saw a pride that I wasn’t expecting.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” I said as the last remaining bit of tension fell from my shoulders.

“Goodnight,” he answered, opening the door and watching as I padded down the hall. He waited until I slipped back into my room before his door clicked shut, and mine quickly followed.

That tiny sound was just enough to wake the man in the bed, and when I turned to him, the sight took my breath away. Because there was Spencer, the man I loved, reaching his arms out into the darkness and grabbing the empty air as he whined, begging me to come to him faster.

And I did. Tossing the bucket onto the table, I rushed over to him and threw myself into the bed beside him without any grace. With a similar restlessness, Spencer wound his arms around me as soon as I was within his reach, pulling me as close as he could without sacrificing all the air in my lungs.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against my hair.

“Don’t worry. I’m back,” I whispered back. The words were lost in his shirt, but he somehow heard them well enough to ask, “Where did you go?”

I didn’t know how exactly to describe what had happened, so I told one of those lies I’d contemplated earlier. “To get ice,” I said. It wasn’t _exactly_ a lie. It was just a very inefficient summary.

Spencer didn’t care, either. In fact, he giggled at the thought, nuzzling his face down into my neck and tickling me with his lips as he mumbled, “Let me warm you up.”

It did succeed in warming me up, but only because it turned into a fit of giggles and more intense tickling. His fingers danced along my sides and his whispers turned back to the same kisses that we’d started the night with.

But it couldn’t last forever. The poor guy still had only had a couple hours of sleep, and I felt the excitement wear off all at once, leaving him only half-awake on the pillow beside me. He still found the energy to look at me like there were stars in my eyes.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again, dragging his hand over my cheek like he could see the tears I’d shed just a few moments before.

“Just ice. I promise,” I answered, ending the thought with a quick kiss on his palm. When I could tell that he didn’t believe that, I brought my hands up to his face as I snickered, “See? Cold hands.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he just leaned forward, letting our noses touch and pulling me in to him again. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could almost see the way his body started to return to sleep as he barely muttered, “No cold feet, though?”

It took me a moment to register the words, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Cold feet for what?” I whispered back.

Spencer’s answer only came in the form of a dreamy laugh. He didn’t open his eyes again, instead choosing to drop his face back into my shoulder just like he had before. This time there were even fewer kisses against my neck before he went still again.

Once again, I was left with my thoughts. Only this time they weren’t scary. Because marrying Spencer Reid was not the worst thing to imagine by far. In fact, there were very few things I’d ever wanted more.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning(s): Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space

Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The _only_ thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your _birthday_.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re _very_ distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.” 

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just _had_ to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only _happy endings_ for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean _your_ return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.” 

“Oh my god, the _drama_!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else. 

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

——————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘ _Read_ ’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk. 

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them." 

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me." 

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever." 

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius. 

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should’ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that. 

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t _care_.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige." 

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “ _Fuck_ ,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time. 

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

——————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of _lust_.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity. 

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating _need_ for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe. 

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“ _Gross_ ,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also _just_ charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a _very_ amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely _riotous_ laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation. 

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Halloween, and there are a lot of things on Spencer’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Penetrative sex, light D/s, mostly fluff!

Autumn has widely been considered the season of change. It is an understandable characterization; from the shifting hues of the leaves to the wildly fluctuating temperatures, few things stayed consistent in the fall. Perhaps that’s why someone who loathes change, someone like me, finds the season so thrilling.

It’s like the Earth and the Sun made a pact to make changes more predictable in their own unique, chaotic way. The breeze becomes biting and the days become shorter, but for these downfalls, we are granted a beauty and calmness that can’t be rivaled by any other season.

But she wasn’t a season, and when it came to my attention and appreciation, there were few choices that were easier to make.

“Spencer. You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

(Y/n)’s face was half covered by the cup she held tightly with both hands, but I could picture the hidden expression perfectly, regardless.

“What? We don’t have to agree on everything.”

The truce was received poorly, her response a heavy scoff and a shake of her head. I tried to follow along with her suddenly heated words but couldn’t contain the stars in my eyes that often accompanied my daydreams. If she did notice, she stubbornly ignored the adoration to continue, “I understand you’re a genius or whatever, but I think your opinions on cider and cocoa are... wrong. They are wrong.”

It was my turn to feign displeasure (I hoped hers wasn’t real, anyway), clutching tighter to my own drink that I found myself defending on a park bench with dozens of strangers as an audience.

“An opinion can’t be wrong!” I chirped, only hating the way my voice jumped a little bit. After all, it was hard to hate it when it made her giggle. But despite how much sweeter the liquid seemed when I drank it in the presence of her smile, I also knew that she wouldn’t appreciate my immediate agreement. So, I pushed back just a little, “It can be misguided or ignorant but not outright _wrong_.”

“Unless it’s yours, on this topic,” she shot back without hesitation.

I tried to flash her a pout, hoping that maybe it would work for me like it did for her. It did not. Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped open with another laugh, and I decided that I preferred that outcome, anyway. The longer my bottom lip stuck out, the wider her smile got. I waited to stop until her eyes closed and turned away, just long enough for me to let the full force of my affection show before she noticed.

She saw it, anyway, in the form of a similar smile spread over my face when I softly admitted, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know.”

Her tongue peeked between her lips, and I found myself thinking less of cider and cocoa and more about how unbelievably lucky I was to find someone that I never felt the need to prove anything to. A person that didn’t care if I held all the answers.

I might’ve continued down that sappy train of thought, but it was hard to do while she had hoisted herself halfway over the table to try and grab hold of my cup right as I went to drink from it. Of course, she had failed to take into account just how big the table was, and just how close I was willing to come to falling before I let her drink from my cup right after she’d criticized my preference of fall flavors.

For a second, I really thought she might climb onto the table to win, but the judgmental looks from the parents in the park must have beaten her desire to win. As forlorn as humanly possible, she fell back into her seat with a loud “ _Hmph!_ ” which really only managed to elicit an equally immature giggle from me.

“Shut up,” she laughed before shoving my paper plate further into my chest, “And eat your stupid pie.”

All I could think as she grabbed my fork and stabbed the middle of the piece to try to lift the entire thing at once, was that I was right about one thing: Autumn, in all its vitality and beauty, could still never compare to her.

That thought persisted through the pumpkin patch, growing in intensity as she skipped through the vine-laden path like a regular fall fairy. It was much easier to get lost in her there, crouched and inspecting foliage. Her arguments regarding gourds were much less spirited, with her watching me wide-eyed and curious as I explained the stages of pumpkin growth and all the different uses for the fruit.

I still let her make the final choices, opting to analyze her selections and tease her for them later, instead. That was the plan, anyway, to continue the competitiveness lest she gets bored with me before the day was over. When she walked past me holding open the passenger side door, I thought it might’ve already happened.

But then she just placed the pumpkin into my hands so she could open the back door. Before I could even move, she carefully removed it from my arms again and placed it in the seat.

“What are you doing?” I said through a very amused chuckle.

She was decidedly not entertained by my confusion, stopping to turn to me with a bored, frustrated expression. “I’m buckling him in,” she explained slowly, like I might need the help. Then, to add insult to silly injury, she added, “Duh.”

I was too distracted by the details to tackle the absurdity of it all.

“Him? It’s a boy pumpkin?”

“Obviously. Look at him,” she snorted, finally clicking the seatbelt in before tenderly petting the top of the lucky little gourd. Once she was convinced it would be as safe as she could make it, she allowed me to begin to escort her into her proper seat.

“You know it’s safer on the floor, right?” I asked before she’d slipped past me. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from the car so I could enjoy the warmth of her before it was replaced with the dry air of the engine.

“How _dare_ you,” she balked with an open mouth that was just begging to be kissed. By the time I got close enough to try, though, her hand fervently shoved my cheek away. I tried to laugh, but she used the same hand to cover the noise, trying and failing to convince me she was being serious.

“Why don’t you just hold him?” I mumbled against her palm.

That was enough for her to abandon my embrace altogether. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she pried my arms off of her and finally made her way to my passenger seat. I didn’t fight her too hard, even taking the time to shut her door like my mother always insisted.

The mercy was not returned, with her eyes narrowed into a playful disbelieving glare that I hadn’t seen in some time. My mind was brought back to the first time she ever let me know she was jealous, bickering over blondes and preferences while she sat in the very same place. And, just as before, she was still wearing the same raggedy old sweatshirt of mine.

“If this is any indication of how you’ll be with a human baby, I have dramatically overestimated your competence,” she droned, obviously unaffected by the stars that appeared in my eyes every time I looked at her.

“The one and only time you’ll ever be able to say those words. I hope you enjoyed it,” I joked. A funny enough joke that she couldn’t help but smile through her facade.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I did.”

The day could have ended there, and it would have been enough. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better with her there. In a way, I think we were trying to prolong the high of ‘hooky,’ finding even the faintest interest in an activity as enough of an excuse for a detour.

… Which was probably how we found ourselves in our third park of the day. After all, I loved any autumnal vision, so how could I decline an opportunity to let them serve as a backdrop for watching her? And that was an accurate description of how I spent the day. It might sound boring, and if it were anyone else, it probably would have been. But no matter how often I saw her, I found myself learning new things about her every single time. Each freckle and scar became a part of the high-definition collection of memories that I would never let myself forget. The most beautiful images that kept me sane in the face of evil and filth.

“Do you see that?”

For a moment, I thought she might have read my mind. But then I realized that her eyes were still fixed forward, stuck on the horizon ahead of us.

“See what?”

“That,” she pointed, “Right there.”

My eyes followed the line, finding nothing but an area of carefully manicured, yellow grass and trees already set to rest for the season. It must have been clear to her that I was lost, because her pointing became more animated and her voice rose as she shouted, “Right there!”

“The giant pile of leaves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Then, in all of my obliviousness, I just sort of stared. Even when her hand grew tighter around mine and her feet started to move faster, I didn’t put two and two together until it was too late.

“What about— No! (Y/n)!” I shouted, cutting off my own train of thought and only barely letting go of her in time to watch her jump straight into the collection of fallen foliage that some poor landscaper had obviously worked hard to gather.

I have to believe that even if that unlucky, underappreciated individual saw what she’d done to their hours of work, that they would forgive her. It was hard to feel anything but joy at the sounds that came from the pile. Yet I approached her cautiously, with both hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to throw myself into danger with her.

“You’re a terror,” I said, settling for a crouched position in front of her. Still able to see her but far enough from her grasp that she had to crawl through a wall of leaves to come nose to nose with me. “This is literally the scariest thing you’ve done all season.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she purred.

As enticing as the offer was, my mind was too preoccupied with statistics of spider and snake bites, not to mention the possibility of ticks still scouring the landscape for any last second hosts. The answer was easy.

“Absolutely not.”

With another exhale of pure displeasure, she threw her body back into the leaves, burying herself into a mess of yellows and reds that somehow only made her look even more beautiful. The chaotic scene matched her energy well, and the harm she was doing was minimal considering I was absolutely going to search every inch of skin for any marks later.

The _only_ thing that was more appealing to me than watching her make an absolute fool out of herself in a pile of leaves was the intense urge to tease her about it. So, taking a regrettable seat on the grass, I sighed, “I think I’m going to have to arrest you for trespassing.”

There was a loud gasp from the center of the pile, followed by a scuffle of flailing limbs among the foliage.

“You don’t own this leaf pile! I do! I am queen of the leaf pile!” she screeched.

“Alright Princess,” I subtly corrected, “whatever you say.”

As promised, I didn’t put up a fight. Even when she finally got a hold of my hands and dragged me into the madness with her. I followed her no matter what nonsense she demanded, just as she had with me so many times. Granted, my desires weren’t nearly as dangerous or strange. They were pretty much just a collection of foreign films and reading that always lulled her to sleep.

But that day there was no sign of her energy waning. The early sun faded and we kept going. I’m not sure how, but she managed to enjoy herself in the D.C. landscape of bars and blaring car horns despite not being able to indulge in anything herself. Although she did half-heartedly attempt to trick me into buying her drinks in several different establishments, I think she was honestly proud that I avoided the drinks altogether. It was a nice reminder that sobriety could be something enjoyed between the two of us, regardless of the environment. However, we didn’t let that stop us from jumping into a crowd of _very_ drunk women who had insisted we join their haunted tour of the city.

“Are you scared?” she whispered into my ear. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine, ruining any credibility I had in my response.

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just history.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes!” I insisted with the worst possible timing. Because just as soon as the word had left my lips, I felt the distinct sensation of fingers running down my neck and arm opposite to her. I was so convinced that’s what it was that I even spun around with a yelp, crashing into at least three different people just to find a very startled woman with the worst hung scarf I’d ever seen.

(Y/n) had already put two and two together and was lost in an absolute fit of laughter. There were already tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she doubled over, barely able to stand through it all. Because there I was, her 31-year-old FBI agent boyfriend, screaming over a scarf.

“Laugh it up,” I droned. And she did. She kept laughing through any attempts at a response, and after the initial embarrassment wore off, I couldn’t help but join her.

“I hope you know you chose me. You chose this man!” I shouted, gesturing to the people around us who had already forgotten about our shenanigans, “And _everyone_ knows it!”

“I’m sorry I can’t—” she wheezed, pausing to take a necessary breath that was all lost with another bunch of giggles “—You’re a fucking FBI Agent!”

“Well I can’t shoot a ghost, can I?” I mumbled through the hit to my ego. But any suffering was quickly dealt with as she threw dramatic arms around my waist, pulling me close and protecting me from any other errant scarves that might show up.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I returned with a quick kiss on her forehead. And even if I implied otherwise, I think she knew that I was having just as good of a time as she was. In fact, it was one of the most relaxing days of my life, which was saying something, considering how much walking was involved.

But no matter how tired we both were, I still had one last place to take her. It took her a while to figure out why the route felt so familiar, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the surprise. I wanted to watch the realization dawn on her. She didn’t disappoint.

“The Mayflower?” she asked with a bit of a bashful laugh before looking up at me through narrowed eyes, “Feeling nostalgic, Dr. Reid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Thought it was more romantic than the club,” I offered, trying to shrug off the nervous butterflies that burst through my stomach. “Not by much, mind you.”

Although I got the feeling that she didn’t know, or perhaps just didn’t remember, that wonderful night from almost a year ago was one of the most important days of my life. I knew it then, too. From the second I set my eyes on her from my pitiful place against the bar, I knew that she would ruin me.

“Nothing screams high end romance like an alley and a little light law breaking,” she sighed. I almost missed it, too preoccupied with the way her arm tugged me tighter so she could rest her head against my shoulder.

“I can take you home if you’d rather.”

“Hmmm. Depends,” she hummed. Then, turning her head up to me with that playful look that always turned me to putty in her hands, she purred, “How much longer do you think you can wait before you just _have_ to have me?”

I sucked in a sharp, sarcastic breath, eyeing her just long enough for her to start to fume, I let out all the air with a defeated sigh, “I guess we’re staying.”

That serene sort of teasing continued past the reception desk and all the way up the elevator. If there were other people there, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too busy watching one another to even look away long enough to find our room. Doubling back through the dizzying hallways until we found the elusive number, we finally settled into the only vaguely familiar layout of beige and tan.

She was much quicker at it than I was. Before I’d even finished washing my hands and checking exposed skin for bugs that I was convinced had hitched a ride from the leaf pile, she was already stretched out on the bed in nothing but a tiny piece of lacy cotton and her favorite sweatshirt. The sight made me stop, lost for breath and logic of how I was lucky enough to be there with her again.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” she teased through giggles, no doubt recalling the same memory as me.

My answer didn’t need to be said, but I said it, anyway. She deserved to hear it.

“Yes.”

With arms outstretched, she sleepily begged, “Come here.”

But I couldn’t.

“Not yet… I just… I want to look at you like this a little bit longer.”

How could I move on from this moment, when it was the best I’d ever felt? So overwhelmingly safe and at home despite being in a strange, sterile room. I had no desire to move any inch of me if it meant that this image would persist for the rest of my days.

“You getting all romantic on me?”

“Always,” I chuckled. Her usual disgust for my sappy behavior didn’t show itself, overpowered by the gentle curve of her lips and hands that were becoming more and more insistent to be held. Eventually, I had to move, knowing that it was the only way to hold her.

My body reacted the way it always did when it found her. All of the tension dropped from tired shoulders, desperate to touch her more. To feel the imprint of her body pressed against mine, a mess of heat and need and love.

She was the one to kiss me first, and for a moment I let her do it without reciprocation. I wanted to feel how her touch became softer and shier as she realized what I was doing. That I was spending all of my energy memorizing the way her lips parted as she tried to hold back a giggle against my almost-still lips.

“What’s happening in that big genius brain of yours?” she murmured with eyes half open but still containing universes.

“I’m just thinking of all the things you’ve done to make me fall in love with you.”

I thanked all of the gods in every pantheon that made her too tired to tease. Instead, she just laughed, playing her part in bringing us back to that night we met.

“Like quote Picard?”

“We _still_ haven’t watched Star Trek together,” I whined.

The sound must have stirred something new in her, because she rolled us over to take her seat on my lap. She hung over me, looking down at me, hopeless and breathless at the feel of her thighs under my hands. My heart started to race, but I didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until she spoke the words that were already running through my mind, “We’ve got time. Picard can wait.”

Everything about it was effortless. Our bodies had fallen together and mouths found each other exactly like every romance novel has ever tried to tackle the metaphor of gravity.

But if we were an orbit, it was not a binary like the traditional notion of two equal souls. Despite the nickname I’d chosen for her, nothing about her soul was small. And even though she burned bright, she wasn’t anything like the fiery combustion of a star.

She was a home. A thing so full of vitality and life that I would love to watch for whatever time I had left. I was just a moon, loyally following her and trying my best to shield her from whatever might try to harm her. To protect her when she needed rest and to lead the tides to kiss her when she wished. I would be her shadow, shining a light onto her even in the darkest time. All that I asked for in return was a spot beside her.

‘ _One day_ ,’ she had said before, ‘ _if you will have me_.’

But it was never a question. Not for me. And if she really needed me to answer it for her, I was happy to give her that. I hadn’t been waiting for even a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Yeah, he can,” I repeated, quiet and with such a heavy waver that I’m surprised she could understand the shifting inflections. Even if she didn’t, she knew that something had changed in those few seconds of silence.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

I didn’t know how to answer. How to explain what I was feeling. But I grabbed hold of one hand, clinging desperately to her and guiding her to the heart that felt dangerously light. The rapid pace of its beating still not enough to alert her of the true cacophony of my thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

The answer was _yes_. Because no matter how loud and chaotic the sounds inside my head were, they all lead me to the same conclusion.

“Picard can wait, and we have a lot of time,” I tried to explain through a dry throat that was only growing tighter with the unwieldy weight of the feeling.

“Yes…” she mumbled back, just as trepidatious and nervous as I was. 

Just like I was. Because **_we_** _were_. We were connected by some force, whatever you want to call it. Whether it was a chemical or psychological or heavenly connection, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know how I felt. To know that there was nothing that would ever tear me away from her.

“But I don’t… I don’t think I want to wait.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, she answered with a knowing stare, “… What?”

From my position underneath her, I was able to reach over just enough to grab my jacket. Of course, it helped that she moved with me, clearly curious and terrified of the possibilities. But a good kind of terror… I hoped.

My confidence grew as her legs gripped tighter around my hips and her hands shot up to cover her chest with balled fists pressed against one another. I heard the friction of her skin as her body started to shake in a different way, with an adrenaline that I hadn’t seen from her in even the most dangerous situations.

But when I pulled a small velvet box from the internal pocket, everything stopped. She became completely still. Her eyes were wide and frozen on the object in my hands, only to look away when she heard my voice.

“(Y/n).”

“Where did you get that?” she asked like she hadn’t just seen me pull it from my jacket. The same jacket that I wore every time that I was with her. The wool fabric that she’d swaddled herself in on a number of occasions, none the wiser of how much heavier it was for me when I wore it.

“I know this is really random, a-and to be fair, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” I said through the most awkward laughs I’d ever produced (which was saying something), “I mean, I knew I wanted to marry you, I’ve known that for quite some time, hence the ring.”

I paused, but got nothing in response. Nothing except her lips quivering from their parted position, and her nose twitching as she tried to settle on just one expression. But it didn’t matter how she contorted her face; they were all exactly as they should be. Because they were all her.

“But today, with you… I-I’ve never been that happy in my life. Jumping in leaves and fighting over fall flavors and I—“

Her eyes stopped bouncing, settling with my gaze and robbing my lungs of all air. She made up her mind, deciding to leave everything exactly as it was. The honest truth of the overwhelming storm of every emotion that had been experienced in the little time we had shared together.

The knowing that everything had happened exactly as it should have to bring us here.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, careful to make every word as genuine as they were, “And I know that we have all the time in the world left with one another… but I don’t want to wait any longer for you to be my wife.”

“Ask me,” she answered immediately and abruptly. 

“Okay,” I laughed, endlessly entertained by how she could sound so aggressive even when we were both at our most vulnerable, caught in the nexus of our love.

“Um… Will you… marry me?”

There was no hesitation. No worry, no fear, and no doubt.

“Yes, you stupid old man!” she outright screamed, throwing arms around me even when it meant we both slammed against pillows and the headboard. She didn’t stop squealing even when she kissed me, struggling to find more of me to hold onto.

After she decided that tugging on my hair was the best way to express her affection, I managed to break away just long enough to shout, “Wait! I have to put the ring on you!”

“Then put it on!” she yelled, thrusting her hand in front of my face and practically slapping me in the process. But none of the pain mattered. Nothing was even recognizable outside of the feeling of her sweaty, shaking palm resting against my fingers.

I noticed for the first time that I was also trembling. I took the time to focus, slipping the ring over her finger. But once it started to safely slide into place, my eyes returned to watch what I knew to be happy tears fall over her cheeks. I wiped them away, but they were replaced with the wetness from my face when she brought us together again with a long, gentle kiss.

A calmness came over the room like the feeling following a storm. A clean slate with soil enriched for growth. A hope for a future forever changed.

“What do we do now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and holding tight to my hands.

The answer seemed clear enough.

“Whatever we want.”

————————

_Is this really happening?_

I stared at the diamond shining back at me with a clarity that had to be a metaphor for my heart. In the vague reflection of yellow light and us, I felt a warmth that doesn’t normally accompany metal. My finger’s new companion felt so comfortable in its new resting place. A constant reminder of the man I called home.

Then I turned back to him, unsure how I was supposed to move on from this moment. I never wanted to leave, but I also needed to move. I compromised and settled with my face against his chest, listening to the heartbeat he’d just dedicated to me. In that peaceful quiet, I heard him speak so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.

But I did.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with fingers dancing through the ends of my hair, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And for once, the thought didn’t feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like freedom. I was finally free to be who I was without worry that I would be alone. Without worrying that I would be too much or too little to please him.

I was enough.

_Enough_.

“I love you,” I said, tasting salt from tears I hadn’t even noticed were falling.

Curiously, and in a rare role switch, Spencer was the one who took a blatantly affectionate display and turned it into something else. Pulling me away from his chest, he dragged me up until he could drag his lips over my jaw.

“Don’t cry, little girl,” he cooed with what I could only imagine was a wicked grin, “I haven’t given you a reason to yet.”

Something about that gruff rumble in his throat caused my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Every inch of me _burned_ with flames that could only be put out by his touch. I chased after his lips with my own, but he was insistent on trailing down my throat. He knew I would be powerless to him. I wouldn’t be able to argue when my hands were knotted in his hair and my hips were already rocking helplessly against his erection.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed. My blood was boiling from the heat I felt within, and before he could even answer I was already working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh? You don’t want me to _make love_ to you?” Spencer laughed. As if that had ever been our style.

“No, I want you to take what’s yours.”

He responded to the demand by pushing me from my seat, forcing me onto my back on the other end of the bed. I wasn’t going to complain, either. The new position allowed me access to his belt, which I unbuckled before he even had time to laugh. 

“Are you really challenging me right now, little girl?”

But despite the taunt, he did nothing to stop me. His hands were also busy removing my clothes. And just like before, our nakedness was reciprocated. With each lost layer, I should have felt lighter, but I didn’t. I felt so powerful, so aware of how our bare bodies twined together.

“Here, of all places? Do you remember what I did to you that night?”

_How could I ever forget?_

“I’m not the same girl you had in your bed then,” I purred. We both knew it was true, although not in the way I was implying.

Because Spencer had changed me. Irrevocably. He taught me so much — not just about physics, literature, or criminology, either. He taught me about kindness, softness, and vulnerability. He taught me how to trust that someone could hold me without the intention of letting me go. More than anything, he taught me that I didn’t have to learn these things alone. Even the smartest man I’d ever met needed help with them sometimes.

Then again, something told me that Spencer wasn’t in a very _humble_ mood. Perhaps it was the fact he’d pinned me down again, with his hands clumsily gripping hard enough to leave crescent moons in my forearms.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled with a small, chaste kiss, “You’re still just a fucking brat.”

I wasn’t feeling bratty then, though. Especially not as I felt the head of his cock pressed against me, just hard enough to feel the resistance of my body. He waited there, no doubt taking pleasure in the way my whole body squirmed underneath him. My hips bucked, but he managed to keep a cruelly steady distance.

“You’re so precious when you’re needy,” he mumbled. And although I stubbornly avoided looking him in the eyes out of protest, he forced my face towards him again, anyway. “Go on. Say please.”

“Fuck off,” I whined through a prominent pout that did me no favors.

“Say it.”

“ _Please_!”

I managed to make eye contact, but it was fleeting. As soon as he thrust forward into me, my back arched and I lost myself in the pillows. My hands found him, though, leaving angry red welts over heated skin. If Spencer was at all affected by the pain, he made no showing of it. His pace continued, steadily forcing our bodies together until I trembled in his hands.

He would hold me there, at my limit but not pleading for him to do anything different. With tender hands, he would fuck me until I swore bruises would follow. But I never felt unsafe; I felt cared for and cherished in a way I’d never known. I trusted him to know my limits better than myself.

I trusted him with all of me because I had already seen that when given the chance, he would do whatever he could to protect me.

The love I felt must have shone through my eyes because his hips got slower, drawing out each movement. My hips rose in tandem with his, allowing me to feel every inch of him inside of me.

“This body belongs to me now and forever,” he whispered.

_It always has._

“You belong to me.”

And I felt it. The undeniable string of fate that tied us to each other. I could feel his every emotion as his fingers brushed over my throat. I melted under his touch, completely consumed by the love he felt for me. The kind of love that people spent their whole lives searching for only to come up empty. That powerful thing that drove gods to war and men to madness.

The _only_ feeling that could tear down every wall that had been carefully crafted to protect myself. Because I didn’t need them anymore. Spencer’s arms would take their place, holding me through the storms that might follow the same way he had carried me through the ones that led us here.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I’m yours.”

_For forever and whatever comes after_.

The words were truer than they’d ever been before, and Spencer took it as permission to let go of any remaining hesitation. The slow, gentle thrusts became faster and our moans echoed in the small room without a second thought to the poor patrons in the rooms surrounding us. Because if they felt what we did, they would understand. Spencer still tried to hush the sounds, crashing his lips over mine in a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

I was suddenly reminded of every romantic story I’d ever heard. They all spoke of feeling so close to someone that they felt like an extension of yourself. I wasn’t sure if it was completely true, but there was no denying how at home our bodies were. The way our tongues wrapped around one another and how our noses bumped so gently in the chaos was unmatched by any meeting driven by lust or need.

His hips met mine over and over again, no matter how hard I tried to keep him closer. Even when my hips chased his to be held longer, Spencer was persistent in the ruthless pace. Because like me, he was lost in the euphoria. I knew it from the sound of his whimpers and the way he bit my lip just a little bit harder.

“Tell me what you want, little girl,” he begged. Not ordered. _Begged_.

“You,” I answered without any doubt, “I just want you.”

His response came even faster, even more desperate and scratchy as it came through his lips into mine.

“You have me. For the rest of my life and whatever comes after, I will take care of you.”

There was nothing left to say. I could feel the truth and force behind the words as he fucked me harder, eliciting one more quiet cry from me in the sound of his name.

“Spencer...”

When he returned the call, though, it wasn’t with any name I’d heard from him before.

“So you better get used to this feeling,” he said through a smile that I felt on my lips before he drew back. He looked me in the eye as he buried himself in me, tensing to hold himself back just a few seconds longer. To see the look on my face and let that be the feeling of us giving in to each other for the first time in our new story.

“Because I’m _never_ going to grow tired of this, _Mrs. Reid_.”

_Mrs. Reid_.

That was going to be my name.

_Mrs. Reid_.

That was the only thought running through my mind as I felt the coil in my gut snap and all of my muscles tense around him. There were no whorish sounds left in my lungs, only little whimpers and whines as I tried to claw him closer. Spencer gave up his visual in exchange for kissing me while he finished. My walls held him so tightly that I felt each pulse and every place where his release filled me. But nothing was more compelling than feeling the way his lip quivered between mine as his body fell onto mine with no grace required.

Spencer could act hard all he wanted, but I felt the way he craved softness. Safety. Love. All things I was happy to give… for a price.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” he replied sleepily but animated enough to have a healthy dose of snark. Snark that earned him a rough nudge of my elbow into his ribs.

“You know!”

But naturally, the genius had to play dumb. With a happy little hum, he snuggled closer to me, burying his face into my neck so he could mumble against the skin, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please,” I sighed, “for me?”

He seemed to contemplate the plea for a little while longer, with wiggling toes I felt against my shins and a happy sigh that breezed over my neck. I tried to take in those small things while I waited, knowing that while I had a lifetime to learn them, _this_ moment would never come again.

“Fine,” he finally settled, propping himself up to give another soft kiss followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Only for you, Mrs. Reid.”

—— _The Next Morning_ ——

Waking up next to Spencer with a ring on my finger was literally waking up to find my dream come to life. And sure, his light snoring and constant wriggling under the sheets he continued to pull off of me weren’t perfect or picturesque, but they were real. The same way that he chirped when he felt my legs wrap around him in his sleep and only woke when he heard me giggling.

His eyes fluttered open, taken aback by something that he saw. Although I would blame it on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I was sure that he would give me all the credit.

“Good morning,” he slurred. 

“Hi,” I answered with a smile and an attempt to pull him closer. But my hand was stopped by his, squeezing my palm between his fingers before dragging my knuckles to his lips. From there, he laid a gentle kiss over the diamond he’d placed there the night before. Although it was strange to be outshone by a rock, I let it go for now.

“I know you shouldn’t sleep with it on, but it’s so nice to see it’s still there,” he said with a heavy breath before lowering our still joined hands to rest against his heart. I could feel the way it beat a little bit quicker as I came closer, and I wondered if this was really what it would be like forever.

“I couldn’t resist wearing it.”

“You know you can still change your mind, right? We haven’t told anyone.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I replied unlike every time before. There was no teasing, no joke or anger or sadness. Just a pure, unadulterated joy.

… Of course, the question did bring up an entirely new anxiety. It did feel a bit silly, but it needs to be expressed.

“Have you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. Like he’d only asked the question to see the way I might panic. But as soon as I heard his assurance, I knew it was the truth.

My mind started to drift back to that first morning we spent together. It felt like a lifetime ago, but everything still felt so very much the same. I wondered if there were things I would change if given the chance. It wasn’t until after I ran through the laundry list of things that we would have been better off without that I realized I’d asked the wrong question.

It wasn’t a matter of what I would have changed, but what I would have kept the same. And the answer was simple. No matter what I would face in my life, I just wanted it to be with him. Everything would be okay as long as I had him.

However, when I tried to kiss him, Spencer still seemed hung up on the things he would have changed. Our lips didn’t connect for even ten seconds before he broke apart, happily laughing through the words, “This is _so_ much better when I’m not hungover.”

“Old man.”

He didn’t argue back, wiggling under the sheets until our chests were pressed together. I took it as a very poor attempt at a power play, because instead of craning my neck to look up at him from my spot, I simply climbed his lanky figure until our noses were pressed together.

“ _Your_ old man now,” he corrected, followed by my own clarification of, “You were always mine, Dr. Reid.”

“But now you get to show everyone.” He grinned, letting go of my hand to roam over the curves of my body. His daily attempts to memorize each version of me he held. After a few more moments of silent reverence, I asked the question we’d have to face eventually, lest we face even more awkward, embarrassing moments with the team.

“Who’s gonna tell everyone?”

He barely even considered the options before he shrugged.

“Let’s just… wing it.”

I paused, certain that I’d heard it wrong. “You, Spencer Reid, would like to ‘ _wing it_?’” I repeated, barely able to get the words out without laughing from the absurdity of it all.

But he was quick to assure me, “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. Whatever you say,” I sighed. I figured that it wouldn’t be worth it to plan right now, anyway. It wasn’t exactly our style. If anything, we would find the perfect time completely by accident.

“You know what we should do first though?” I excitedly announced to the best audience a girl could ever ask for.

“What?”

“ _Coffee_ ,” I drawled. To which he quickly answered, “I love you an ungodly amount.”

Taking full advantage of that admission, I shoved the poor soul who’d shackled himself to me forever away as I ordered, “Go turn it on. I am craving shitty hotel coffee in bed with my _fiancé_.”

“Fine,” he resigned with a smile while rolling out of the bed, “Spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat!” I shouted back from safe under the covers that I could finally get back in his absence. They weren’t as good as him, but they would be enough for now. I buried my face into his pillow, snickering as I heard a very tired Spencer call from the bathroom, “Forever mine!”

Just as the sounds of running water filled the room, I lifted my head at the distant sound of familiar chiming beside me.

“Is that my phone?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed in my place as I felt the most intense sensation of deja vu I’d ever experienced. Right there on the nightstand, I saw the name _Hotchner_.

Spencer was quicker this time to leave the bathroom, but just as he turned the corner, a thought must have stopped him. Because he paused, staring at me with hotel sheets gathered around me and his phone against my ear. 

He didn’t try to fight me for the device. In fact, he didn’t move at all, watching from a few feet away with a smile I’d never seen before. The kind that I felt so deep inside of me that I realized this was what they meant to share a soul with someone.

“Hello,” I spoke softly and filled with love, “this is Mrs. Reid.”

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this far! I can't believe it's almost been a year since I started this. Everyone who has commented and followed and interacted with me, you have made the past year bearable. I love each and every one of you, and I hope you stick around for my other works. 
> 
> As you might have noticed, there are still chapters left of the story. That's because I plan on *eventually* writing a multi-part Epilogue of their happily ever after. In the meantime, I will be starting a new series titled "The Birds and The Bees," which is about Professor Reid realizing his TA is both irresistible and... a virgin. Or, as Derek Morgan will so lovingly put it, "Trouble with a capital everything." 
> 
> So stay tuned for that (along with my continued oneshots)! I appreciate you all very much - Thank you again!


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